/A  A/  :^% 


JFrom  tl|f  iCibrarif  of 

15^r|ueatl|pli  hg  I|im  to 

tly?  ICtbrarg  of 

^rtnrfton  SHi^nlogtral  g>?mtttar^ 

,   A  C^  -5.  0 


THE    EXPOSITOR'S    BIRLE 


EUITEU   BY   THE    KEV.  N/'T /O/.-Jn 

W.    ROBERTSON    NICOLL,    M.A.,    Lt^D"^^^' 

Editor  of  "  The  Exposilor'" 


n 


THE    SONG    OF    SOLOMON 

AND 

THE    LAMENTATIONS    OF    JEREMIAH 

BY 

WALTER    F.    ADENEY.    M.A. 


NEW  YORK 

A.    C.    ARMSTRONG    AND    SON 
51    EAST    TENTH    STREET 


THE     EXPOSITOR'S     BIBLE 

Cnrnm  Svo,  cloth,  price  $1.50  each  vol. 


First  Series,  1887-8. 
Colossians. 

By  A.  Maclarbn,  D.D. 

St.  Mark. 

By  Very  Rev.  the  Dean  of  Armagh. 

Genesis. 

By  Prof.  Marcus  Dods,  D.D. 

1  Samuel. 

By  Prof.   W.   G.  Blaikie,  D.D. 

2  Samuel. 

By  the  same  Author. 

Hebrews. 

By  Principal  T.C.  Edwards.D.D. 
Second  Series,  1888-9. 
Galatians, 

By  Prof.  G.  G.  FiNDLAY,  B.A. 
The  Pastoral  Epistles. 

By  Rev.  A.  Plummkr,  D.D. 

Isaiah  i. — xxxix. 

By  Prof.    G.    A.    SMITH,    D.D. 
Vol.  I. 

The  Book  of  Revelation. 

By  Prof.  W.  Milligan,  D.D. 

1  Corinthians, 

By  Prof.  Marcus  Dods,  D.D. 

The  Epistles  of  St.  John, 

By  Rt.  Rev.W.  Alexander.D.D. 
Third  Series,  18S9-90. 
Judges  and  Ruth. 

By  R.  A.  Watson,  M.A.,  D.D. 

Jeremiah. 

By  Rev.  C.  J.  Ball,  M.A. 

Isaiah  xl.— lxvi. 

By  Prof.  G.    A.   Smith,    D.D. 
Vol.  II. 

St.  Matthew. 

By  Rev.  J.  Monro  Gibson,  D.D. 
Exodus. 

By  Very  Rev.  the  Dean  of  Armagh. 

St,  Luke. 

By  Rev.  H.  Burton,  M.A. 
Fourth  Series,  1890-1. 
Ecclesiastes. 

By  Rev.  Samuel  Cox,  D.D. 

St.  James  and  St.  Jude. 

By  Rev.  A.  Plummer,  D.D. 

Proverbs. 

By  Rev.  R.  F.  Horton,  D.D. 
Leviticus. 

By  Rev.  S.  H.  Kellogg,  D.D. 

The  Gospel  of  St.  John. 

By  Prof.  M.  DoDS,  D.D.    Vol.  I. 

The  Acts  of  the  Apostles, 

By  Prof.  Stokes,  D.D.    Vol.  I. 


Fifth  Series,  1891-2. 
The  Psalms. 

By  A.  Maclaren,  D.D.     Vol.1. 

1  and  2  Thessalonians. 

By  James  Dennev,  D.D. 

The  Book  of  Job. 

By  R.  A.  Watson,  M.A.,  D.D. 

Ephesians. 

By  Prof.  G.  G.  FrNDL.w,  B.A. 
'   The  Gosoel  of  St,  John. 

I  By  Prof!  M.  Dods,  D.D.    Vol.11. 

I   The  Acts  of  the  Apostles, 

I  By  Prof.  Stokes,  D.D.     Vol.  II. 

j  Sixth  Series,  1892-3. 

I  1   Kings, 

By  Ven.  Archdeacon  Farrar. 

Philippians, 

By  Principal  Rainy,  D.D. 

\    Ezra   Nehemiah,  Esther. 

:  By  Prof  W.  F.  Adkney,  M.A. 

i   Joshua. 

j  By  Prof.  W.  G.  Bi-aikib,  D.D. 

The  Psalms, 

ByA.  Maclarkh,  D.D.    Vol.11. 

The  Epistles  of  St.  Peter. 

By  Prof  Rawson  Lumby,  D.D. 
Seventh  Series,  1893-4. 

2  Kings. 

By  Ven.  Archdeacon  Farrar. 
I    Romans, 

By  H.  C.  G.  MouLE,  M.A. 

i   The  Books  of  Chronicles, 

j  By  Prof.  W.  H.  Bennett,  M.A. 

j   2  Corinthians. 

By  James  Denney,  D.D. 

Numbers, 

By  R.  a.  Watson,  M.A.,  D.D. 

The  Psalms. 

ByA.  Maclaren,  D.D.  Vol. III. 
Eighth  Series,  1895-6. 
Daniel, 

By  Ven.  Archdeacon  Farrar. 

The  Book  of  Jeremiah. 

By  Prof.  W.  H.  Bennett,  M.A. 

Deuteronomy. 

By  Prof.  .Andrew  Harper,  B.D. 

The  Song  of  Solomon  and 
Lamentations. 

By  Prof.  W.  F.  Adeney,  M.A. 

Ezekiel. 

i  By  Prof.  John  Skinner,  M.A. 

The  Minor  Prophets. 

By  Prof.   G.    A.    Smith,    D.D. 
Two  Vols. 


THE  SONG  OF  SOLOMON 

AND    THE 

LAMENTATIONS    OF    JEREMIAH 


WALTER   F.^DENEY,    M.A. 

PROFESSOR    OF    NEW   TESTAMENT   EXEGESIS,   AND   CliURCH    HISTORY, 
NEW  COLLEGE   LONDON 


NEW  YORK 

A.    C.    ARMSTRONG    AND    SON 

51    EAST    TENTH    STREET 

1895 


CONTENTS 

THE    SONG    OF   SOLOMON 
CHAPTER   I 


THE    STRUCTURE    OF    THE    BOOK 


CHAPTER    II 


TRUE    LOVE   TESTED 
i.-v.    I. 


.OVE    UNQUENCHABLE 
V.    I-viii. 


CHAPTER    III 


CHAPTER   IV 

MYSTICAT-    INTERPRETATIONS 4 1 

CHAPTER    V 

CANONICITY 53 


CONTENTS 


THE    LAMENTATIONS    OF  JEREMIAH 

CHAPTER    I 


HEBREW    ELEGIES 


CHAPTER   II 
THE    ORIGIN    OF    THE    POEMS 


CHAPTER 

III 

THE 

THEME 

CHAPTER 

IV 

DESOI,ATION 

. 

' 

•    1-7- 

CHAPTER 

V 

SIN 
i 

AND    SUFFERING 
.   8-II. 

CHAPTER 

VI 

zion's  appeal     . 

i 

.    12-22. 

CHAPTER 

VII 

GOD 

AS   AN    ENEMY 

ii 

i.    1-9. 

CHAPTER   ' 

^nii 

THE 

CRY    OF    THE    CHILDREN 

ii 

.    10-17. 

63 


75 


87 


97 


;o8 


132 


144 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   IX 

PROPHETS    WITHOUT   A    VISION 
ii.  9.  14. 

CHAPTER   X 
THE    CALL    TO    PRAYER  .... 

ii.    18-22. 

CHAPTER    XI 

THE    MAN    THAT    HATH    SEEN    AFFLICTION 
iii.    I-2I. 

CHAPTER   XII 

THE    UNFAILING   GOODNESS    OF   GOD 
iii.  22-24. 


.    156 


]68 


80 


[94 


CHAPTER   XIII 


QUIET    WAITING    . 
iii.  25-36. 


.    206 


GOD   AND    EVIL 
"''•  37-39- 


CHAPTER   XIV 


CHAPTER   XV 


THE    RETURN 
iii.  40-42. 


230 


CHAPTER  .XVI 


GRIEVING    BEFORE    GOD 
i'i-  43-54- 


242 


CHAPTER   XVII 


DE  PR0FUND7S 
iii.   55-66. 


253 


VIU 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

PAGE 

CONTRASTS 265 

iv.   I-I2. 

CHAPTER   XIX 

LEPERS 277 

iv.    13-16. 

CHAPTER   XX 

VAIN    HOPES 288 

iv.    17-20. 

CHAPTER   XXI 
THE    DEBT    OF    GUILT    EXTINGUISHED      ....    300 
iv.  21,  22. 

CHAPTER   XXII 
AN    APPEAL    FOR    GOd's    COMPASSION        .  .  .  .    ^H 


V.    l-io. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

SIN    AND    SHAME 324 

V.   II-18. 

CHAPTER   XXIV 

THE    EVERLASTING    THRONE 335 

V.   19-22. 


THE  SONG   OF  SOLOMON 


CHAPTER    I 

THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  BOOK 

THE  Song  of  Solomon  is  a  puzzle  to  the  com- 
mentator. Quite  apart  from  the  wilderness  of 
mystical  interpretations  v/ith  which  it  has  been  over- 
grown in  the  course  of  the  ages/  its  literary  form  and 
motive  are  subjects  of  endless  controversy.  There  are 
indications  that  it  is  a  continuous  poem  ;  and  yet  it 
is  characterised  by  startling  kaleidoscopic  changes  that 
seem  to  break  it  up  into  incongruous  fragments.  If  it 
is  a  single  work  the  various  sections  of  it  succeed  one 
another  in  the  most  abrupt  manner,  without  any  con- 
necting links  or  explanatory  clauses. 

The  simplest  way  out  of  the  difficulty  presented  by 
the  many  curious  turns  and  changes  of  the  poem  is  to 
deny  it  any  structural  unity,  and  treat  it  as  a  string  of 
independent  lyrics.  That  is  to  cut  the  knot  in  a  rather 
disappointing  fashion.  Nevertheless  the  suggestion  to 
do  so  met  with  some  favour  when  it  was  put  forth  at 
the  close  of  the  last  century  by  Herder,  a  writer  who 
seemed  better  able  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  Hebrew 
poetry  than  any  of  his  contemporaries.  While  accept- 
ing the  traditional  view  of  the  authorship  of  the  book, 
this  critic  described  its  contents  as  "  Solomon's  songs 
of  love,  the   oldest  and   sweetest    of  the  East ; "  and 

'  To  be  considered  later.     See  chap.  iv. 
3 


THE  SONG  OF  SOLOMON 


Goethe  in  the  world  of  letters,  as  well  as  biblical 
students,  endorsed  his  judgment.  Subsequently  it  fell 
into  disfavour,  and  scholars  who  differed  among  them- 
selves with  respect  to  their  ov/n  theories,  agreed  in 
rejecting  this  particular  hypothesis.  But  quite  recently 
it  has  reappeared  in  an  altered  form.  The  book,  it 
is  now  suggested,  is  just  a  chance  collection  of  folk 
songs  from  northern  Palestine,  an  anthology  of  rustic 
love-poems.  These  songs  are  denied  any  connection 
with  Solom.on  or  the  court.  The  references  to  royalty 
are  accounted  for  by  a  custom  said  to  be  kept  up  among 
the  Syrian  peasants  in  the  present  day,  according  to 
which  the  week  of  wedding  festivities  is  called  "The 
king's  week,"  because  the  newly-married  pair  then 
play  the  part  of  king  and  queen,  and  are  playfully 
treated  by  their  friends  with  the  honours  of  a  court. 
The  bridegroom  is  supposed  to  be  named  Solomon  in 
acknowledgment  of  his  regal  splendour — as  an  English 
villager  might  be  so  named  for  his  conspicuous  wisdom  ; 
while  perhaps  the  bride  is  called  the  Shulammite, 
v.-ith  an  allusion  to  the  famous  beauty  Abishag,  the 
Shunammite  of  David's  time.^ 

Such  a  theory  as  this  is  onty  admissible  on  condition 
that  the  unity  of  the  poem  has  been  disproved.  But 
whether  we  can  unravel  it  or  not,  there  is  much  that 
goes  to  show  that  one  thread  nms  through  the  whole 
book.  The  style  is  the  same  throughout,  and  it  has 
no  parallel  in  the  whole  of  Hebrew  literature.  Ever}'- 
where  we  meet  with  the  same  rich,  luxurious  language, 
the  same  abundance  of  imagery,  the  same  picturesque 
habit  of  alluding  to  a  number  of  plants  and  animals  by 
name,  the  same  vivacity  of  movement,  the  same  plead- 

'   I  Kings  i.  s. 


THE   STRUCTURE    OF   THE  BOOK 


ing  tone,  the  same  suffused  glow  as  of  the  Hght  of 
morning.  Then  there  are  more  peculiar  features  that 
continually  recur,  such  as  the  form  of  the  dialogue, 
certain  recognisable  characters,  the  part  of  chorus  taken 
by  the  daughters  of  Jerusalem,  in  particular  the  gentle, 
graceful  portrait  of  the  Shulammite,  the  consistency  of 
which  is  well  preserved.  But  the  principal  reason  for 
believing  in  the  unity  of  the  work  is  to  be  found  in  an 
examination  of  its  plot.  The  difficult3'  of  making  this 
out  has  encouraged  the  temptation  to  discredit  its  exist- 
ence. But  while  there  are  various  ideas  about  the 
details,  there  is  enough  in  common  to  all  the  proposed 
schemes  of  the  story  to  indicate  the  fact  that  the  book 
is  one  composition. 

The  question  whether  the  work  is  a  drama  or  an  idyl 
has  been  discussed  with  much  critical  acumen.  But  is 
it  not  rather  pedantic  ?  The  sharply  divided  orders  of 
European  poetry  were  not  observed  or  even  known  in 
Israel.  It  was  natural,  therefore,  that  Hebrew  imagina- 
tive work  should  partake  of  the  characteristics  of  several 
orders,  while  too  naive  to  trouble  itself  with  the  rules 
of  any  one.  The  drama  designed  for  acting  was  not 
cultivated  by  the  ancient  Jews.  It  was  introduced  as  an 
exotic  only  as  late  as  the  Roman  period,  when  Herod 
built  the  first  theatre  known  to  have  existed  in  the 
Holy  Land.  Previous  to  his  time  \x&  have  no  mention 
of  the  art  of  play-acting  among  the  Jev/s.  Nevertheless 
the  dialogues  in  the  Song  of  Solomon  are  certainly 
dramatic  in  character ;  and  we  cannot  call  the  poem  an 
idyl  when  it  is  rendered  entirely  in  the  form  of  speeches 
by  different  persons  ^vithout  an}'  connecting  narrative. 
The  Book  of  Job  is  also  dramatic  in  form,  though,  like 
Browning's  dramatic  poetr}^,  not  designed  for  acting ;  but 
in  that  work  each  of  the  several  speakers  is  introduced 


THE  SONG   OF  SOLOMON 


by  a  sentence  that  indicates  who  he  is,  while  in  our 
poem  no  such  indication  is  given.  Here  we  only 
get  evidence  of  a  change  of  speakers  in  the  form 
and  contents  of  the  utterances,  and  the  transition 
from  the  masculine  to  the  feminine  gender  and  from 
the  singular  number  to  the  plural.  Even  the  chorus 
takes  an  active  part  in  the  movement  of  the  dialogue, 
instead  of  simply  commenting  on  the  proceedings  of 
the  principal  characters  as  in  a  Greek  play.  We 
seem  to  want  a  key  to  the  story,  and  the  absence  of 
anything  of  the  kind  is  the  occasion  of  the  bewildering 
variety  of  conjectures  that  confronts  the  reader.  But 
the  difficulty  thus  occasioned  is  no  reason  for  denying 
that  there  is  any  continuity  in  the  book,  especially 
in  view  of  numerous  signs  of  unity  that  cannot  be 
evaded. 

Among  those  who  accept  the  dramatic  integrity  of  the 
poem  there  are  two  distinct  lines  of  interpretation,  each 
of  them  admitting  some  differences  in  the  treatment  of 
detail.  According  to  one  scheme  Solomon  is  the  only 
lover  ;  according  to  the  other,  while  the  king  is  seeking 
to  win  the  affections  of  the  country  maiden,  he  has 
been  forestalled  by  a  shepherd,  fidelity  to  whom  is- 
shewn  by  the  Shulammite  in  spite  of  the  fascinations 
of  the  court. 

There  is  no  denying  the  rural  simplicity  of  much 
of  the  scenery ;  evidently  this  is  designed  to  be  in 
contrast  to  the  sensuous  luxury  and  splendour  of  the 
court.  Those  who  take  Solomon  to  be  the  one  lover 
throughout,  not  only  admit  this  fact ;  the}^  bring  it  into 
their  version  of  the  story  so  as  to  heighten  the  effect. 
The  king  is  out  holiday-making,  perhaps  on  a  hunting 
expedition,  when  he  first  meets  the  country  maiden. 
In  her  childlike  simplicity  she  takes  him  for  a  rustic 


THE  STRUCTURE   OF  THE  BOOK 


swain  ;  or  perhaps,  though  she  knows  who  he  is,  she 
sportively  addresses  him  as  she  would  address  one 
of  her  village  companions.  Subsequently  she  shews 
no  liking  for  the  pomp  of  royalty.  She  cannot  make 
herself  at  home  with  the  women  of  the  harem.  She 
longs  to  be  back  in  her  mother's  cottage  among  the 
woods  and  fields  where  she  spent  her  child  days.  But 
she  loves  the  king  and  he  dotes  on  her.  So  she  would 
ake  him  with  her  away  from  the  follies  and  temptations 
of  the  court  down  to  her  quiet  country  retreat.  Under 
the  influence  of  the  Shulammite  Solomon  is  induced 
to  give  up  his  unworthy  habits  and  live  a  healthier, 
purer  Hfe.  Her  love  is  strong  enough  to  retain  the 
king  wholly  to  herself.  Thus  the  poem  is  said  to 
describe  a  reformation  in  the  character  of  Solomon. 
In  particular  it  is  thought  to  celebrate  the  triumph  of 
true  love  over  the  degradation  of  polygamy. 

It  is  impossible  to  find  any  time  in  the  life  of  David's 
successor  when  this  great  conversion  might  have  taken 
place;  and  the  occurrence  itself  is  highly  improbable. 
Those  however  are  not  fatal  objections  to  the  proposed 
scheme,  because  the  poem  may  be  entirely  ideal ;  it 
may  even  be  written  at  the  king.  Historical  con- 
siderations need  not  trouble  us  in  dealing  with  an 
imaginative  work  such  as  this.  It  must  be  judged 
entirely  on  internal  grounds.  But  when  it  is  so  judged 
it  refuses  to  come  into  line  with  the  interpretation 
suggested.  Regarding  the  matter  only  from  a  literary 
point  of  view,  we  must  confess  that  it  is  most  improbable 
that  Solomon  would  be  introduced  as  a  simple  peasant 
without  any  hint  of  the  reason  of  his  appearing  in 
this  novel  guise.  Then  we  may  detect  a  difference 
between  the  manner  in  which  the  king  addresses  the 
Shulammite  and  that  in  which,  on  the  second  hypothesis. 


THE  SONG   OF  SOLOMON 


the  shepherd  speaks  to  her.  Solomon's  compliments 
are  frigid  and  stilted ;  they  describe  the  object  of  his 
admiration  in  the  most  extravagant  terms,  but  they 
exhibit  no  trace  of  feeling.  The  heart  of  the  voluptuary 
is  withered,  the  fires  of  passion  have  burnt  themselves 
out  and  only  the  cold  ashes  remain,  the  sacred  word 
"  love  "  has  been  so  long  desecrated  that  it  has  ceased 
to  convey  any  meaning.  On  the  other  hand,  frequent 
practice  has  outstripped  the  clumsy  wooing  of  inex- 
perienced lovers  and  developed  the  art  of  courtship  to 
a  high  degree.  The  royal  bird-catcher  knows  how 
to  lay  his  lines,  though  fortunately  for  once  even  his 
consummate  skill  fails.  How  different  is  the  bearing 
of  the  true  lover,  a  village  lad  who  has  won  the 
maiden's  heart  1  He  has  no  need  to  resort  to  the 
vocabulary  of  flattery,  because  his  own  heart  speaks. 
The  EngUsh  translations  give  an  unwarrantable  appear- 
ance of  warmth  to  the  king's  language  where  he  is 
represented  as  calling  the  Shulammite  "  My  love."  ^ 
The  word  in  the  Hebrew  means  no  more  than  my 
friend.  When  Solomon  first  appears  he  addresses 
the  Shulammite  with  this  title,  and  then  immediately 
tries  to  tempt  her  by  promising  her  presents  of  jewelry. - 
Take  another  instance.  In  the  beginning  of  the  fourth 
chapter  Solomon  enters  on  an  elaborate  series  of 
compliments  describing  the  beauty  of  the  Shulammite, 
without  a  single  word  of  affection.  As  she  persists 
in  withstanding  his  advances  her  persecutor  becomes 
abashed.  He  shrinks  from  her  pure,  cold  gaze,  calls 
her  terrible  as  an  army  with  banners,  prays  her  to 
turn  away  her  eyes  from  him.  On  the  theory  that 
Solomon  is  the  accepted  lover,  the  beloved  bridegroom. 


THE  STRUCTURE   OF   THE   BOOK 


this  position  is  quite  unintelligible.  Now  turn  to  the 
language  of  the  true  lover  :  **  Thou  hast  ravished  my 
heart,  my  sister,  my  bride;  thou  hast  ravished  my  heart 
with  one  look  of  thine  eyes."  ^ 

A  corresponding  difference  is  to  be  detected  in  the 
bearing  of  the  maiden  towards  the  rivals.  Towards 
the  king  she  is  cool  and  repellent ;  but  no  dream  of 
poetry  can  equal  the  tenderness  and  sweetness  of  her 
musing  on  her  absent  lover  or  the  warmth  of  love  with 
which  she  speaks  to  him.  These  distinctions  will  be 
more  apparent  in  detail  as  we  proceed  with  the  story 
of  the  poem.  It  may  be  noticed  here,  that  this  story 
is  not  at  all  consistent  with  the  theory  that  Solomon 
is  the  only  lover.  According  to  that  hypothesis  we 
have  the  highly  improbable  situation  of  a  separation 
of  the  newly  married  couple  on  their  wedding  day. 
Besides,  as  the  cHmax  is  supposed  to  be  reached  at 
the  middle  of  the  book,  there  is  no  apparent  motive  for 
the  second  half.  The  modern  novel,  which  has  its 
wedding  at  the  middle  of  its  plot,  or  even  at  the  very 
beginning,  and  then  sets  itself  to  develop  the  comedy 
or  perhaps  the  tragedy  of  married  life,  is  not  at  all 
parallel  to  this  old  love  story.  Time  must  be  allowed 
for  the  development  of  matrimonial  complications ;  but 
here  the  scenes  are  all  in  close  connection. 

If  we  are  thus  led  to  accept  what  has  been  called 
"  the  shepherd  hypothesis  "  the  value  of  the  book  will 
be  considerably  enhanced.  This  is  more  than  a 
mere  love  poem ;  it  is  not  to  be  classed  with  erotics, 
although  a  careless  reading  of  some  of  its  passages 
might  incline  us  to  place  it  in  the  same  category  with 
a  purely  sensuous    style   of  poetry.     We   have   here 


IV.  9. 


THE  SONG   OF  SOLOMON 


something  more  than  Sappho's  fire.  If  we  are  tempted 
to  compare  it  with  Herrick's  Hesperides  or  Shakespeare's 
Sonnets,  we  must  recognise  an  element  that  Hfts  it 
above  the  sighs  of  love-sick  youths  and  maidens. 
Even  on  the  "  Solomon  theory  "  pure  love  and  simple 
living  are  exalted  in  opposition  to  the  luxury  and  vices 
of  the  royal  seraglio.  A  poem  that  sets  forth  the 
beauty  of  a  simple  country  life  as  the  scene  of  the  true 
love  of  husband  and  wife  in  contrast  to  the  degradation 
of  a  corrupt  court  is  distinctly  elevating  in  tone  and 
influence,  and  the  more  so  for  the  fact  that  it  is  not 
didactic  in  form.  It  is  not  only  in  kings'  palaces  and 
amid  scenes  of  oriental  voluptuousness  that  the  influ- 
ence of  such  ideas  as  are  here  presented  is  needed. 
Christian  civilisation  has  not  progressed  beyond  the 
condition  in  which  the  consideration  of  them  may  be 
resorted  to  as  a  wholesome  corrective.  But  if  we  are 
to  agree  to  the  "shepherd  hypothesis"  as  on  the 
whole  the  more  probable,  another  idea  of  highest 
importance  emerges.  It  is  not  love,  now,  but  fidelity, 
that  claims  our  attention.  The  simple  girl,  protected 
only  by  her  virtue,  who  is  proof  against  all  the 
fascinations  of  the  most  splendid  court,  and  who  prefers 
to  be  the  wife  of  the  poor  man  whom  she  loves,  and 
to  whom  she  has  plighted  troth,  to  accepting  a  queen's 
crown  at  the  cost  of  deserting  her  humble  lover,  is 
the  type  and  example  of  a  loyalty  which  is  the  more 
admirable  because  it  appears  where  we  should  little 
expect  to  find  it.  It  has  been  said  that  such  a  story 
as  is  here  depicted  would  be  impossible^  in  real  life  ; 
that  a  girl  once  enticed  into  the  harem  of  an  oriental 
despot  would  never  have  a  chance  of  escape.  The 
eunuchs  who  guarded  the  doors  would  lose  their  heads 
if  they  allowed   her   to  run   away ;    the   king   would 


THE  STRUCTURE   OF  THE  BOOK 


never  give  up  the  prey  that  had  fallen  into  his 
trap;  the  shepherd  lover  who  v^^as  mad  enough  to 
pursue  his  lost  sweetheart  into  her  captor's  palace 
v^ould  never  come  out  alive.  Are  u^e  so  sure  of  all 
these  points  ?  Most  improbable  things  do  happen. 
It  is  at  least  conceivable  that  even  a  cruel  tyrant  might 
be  seized  with  a  fit  of  generosity,  and  why  should  we 
regard  Solomon  as  a  cruel  tyrant  ?  His  fame  implies 
that  there  were  noble  traits  in  his  character.  But 
these  questions  are  beside  the  mark.  The  situation  is 
wholly  ideal.  Then  the  more  improbable  the  events 
described  would  be  in  real  life,  the  more  impressive 
do  the  lessons  they  suggest  become. 

Who  wrote  the  book  ?  The  only  answer  that  can 
be  given  to  this  question  is  negative.  Assuredly, 
Solomon  could  not  have  been  the  author  of  this  lovely 
poem  in  praise  of  the  love  and  fidelity  of  a  country  lass 
and  her  swain,  and  the  simplicity  of  their  rustic  life. 
It  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  man  in  all  history  who 
more  conspicuously  illustrated  the  exact  opposites  of 
these  ideas.  The  exquisite  eulogy  of  love — perhaps 
the  finest  in  any  literature — which  occurs  towards  the 
end  of  the  book,  the  passage  beginning,  "  Set  me  as  a 
seal  upon  thine  heart,"  etc.,^  is  not  the  work  of  this 
master  of  a  huge  seraglio,  with  his  '*  seven  hundred 
wives  "  and  his  "  three  hundred  concubines."  ^  It  is 
impossible  to  find  the  source  of  this  poetry  in  the 
palace  of  the  Israelite  "  Grand  Monarch  "  ;  we  might  as 
soon  light  on  a  bank  of  wild  flowers  in  a  Paris  dancing 
saloon.  There  is  quite  a  library  of  Solomon  literature, 
a  very  small  part  of  which  can  be  traced  to  the  king 
whose  name  it  bears,  the  greatness  of  this  name  having 


viii.  6,  7.  '^  I  Kings  xi. 


THE  SONG   OF  SOLOMON 


attracted  attention  and  led  to  the  ascription  of  various 
works  to  the  royal  author,  whose  wisdom  was  as  pro- 
verbial as  his  splendour.  It  is  difficult  to  resist  the 
impression  that  in  the  present  case  there  is  some  irony 
in  the  singular  inappropriateness  of  the  title. 

The  date  of  the  poem  can  be  conjectured  with  some 
degree  of  assurance,  although  the  language  does  not 
help  us  much  in  the  determination  of  this  point.  There 
are  archaisms,  and  there  are  also  terms  that  seem  to 
indicate  a  late  date — Aramaic  words  and  possibly  even 
words  of  Greek  extraction.  The  few  foreign  terms 
may  have  crept  in  under  the  influence  of  revisers.  On 
the  other  hand  the  style  and  contents  of  the  book 
speak  for  the  days  of  the  Augustan  age  of  Hebrew 
history.  The  notoriety  of  Solomon's  court  and  memories 
of  its  magnificence  and  luxury  seem  to  be  fresh  in  the 
minds  of  people.  These  things  are  treated  in  detail 
and  with  an  amount  of  freedom  that  supposes  knowledge 
on  the  part  of  the  readers  as  well  as  the  writer.  There 
is  one  expression  that  helps  to  fix  the  date  with  more 
definiteness.  Tirzah  is  associated  with  Jerusalem  as 
though  the  two  cities  were  of  equal  importance.  The 
king  says  : — 

"Thou  art  beautiful,  O  my  love,  as  Tirzah,. 
Comely  as  Jerusalem." ' 

Now  this  city  was  the  northern  capital  for  about  fifty 
years  after  the  death  of  Solomon — from  the  time  of 
Jeroboam,  who  made  it  his  royal  residence,^  till  the 
reign  of  Omri,  who  abandoned  the  ill-omened  place 
six  years  after  his  vanquished  predecessor  Zimri  had 
burnt    the    palace  over    his    own  head.^     The  way  in 

'  vi,  4.  -   I  Kings  xiv.  17.  ■'    I  Kings  xvi.  18,  23,  24. 


THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  BOOK 


which  the  old  capital  is  mentioned  here  implies  that  it 
is  still  to  the  north  what  Jerusalem  is  to  the  south. 
Thus  we  are  brought  to  the  half  century  after  the  death 
of  the  king  whose  name  the  book  bears. 

The  mention  of  Tirzah  as  the  equal  of  Jerusalem  is 
also  an  evidence  of  the  northern  origin  of  the  poem  ;  for 
it  is  not  at  all  probable  that  a  subject  of  the  mutilated 
nation  of  the  south  would  describe  the  beauty  of  the 
rebel  headquarters  by  the  side  of  that  of  his  own  idolised 
city,  as  something  typical  and  perfect.  But  the  poem 
throughout  gives  indications  of  its  origin  in  the  country 
parts  of  the  north.  Shunem,  famous  as  the  scene  of 
Elisha's  great  miracle,  seems  to  be  the  home  of  the 
heroine.^  The  poet  turns  to  all  points  of  the  com- 
pass for  images  with  which  to  enrich  his  pictures — 
Sharon  on  the  western  coast/  Gilead  across  the  Jordan 
to  the  east,^  Engedi  by  the  wilderness  of  the  Dead 
Sea/  as  well  as  the  northern  districts.  But  the  north 
is  most  frequently  mentioned.  Lebanon  is  named  over 
and  over  again/  and  Hermon  is  referred  to  as  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  shepherd's  home."  In  fact  the 
poem  is  saturated  with  the  fragrant  atmosphere  of  the 
northern  mountains. 

Now  this  has  suggested  a  striking  inference.  Here 
we  have  a  picture  of  Solomon  and  his  court  from  the 
not  too  friendly  hand  of  a  citizen  of  the  revolted  pro- 
vinces. The  history  in  the  Books  of  Kings  is  written 
from  the  standpoint  of  Judah ;  it  is  curious  to  learn 
how  the  people  of  the  north  thought  of  Solomon  in 
all  his  glory.  Thus  considered  the  book  acquires  a 
secondary    and   political   meaning.     It    appears   as   a 


VI.  13.  "  IV.  I.  ^  111.  9;  IV.  »,  15  ;   vn.  4. 

ii.  I.  ■*  i.   14.  "  iv.  8. 


THE  SONG   OF  SOLOMON 


scornful  condemnation  of  the  court  at  Jerusalem  on  the 
part  of  the  poorer  and  more  simple  inhabitants  of  the 
kingdom  of  Jeroboam  and  his  successors.^  But  it  also 
stands  for  all  time  as  a  protest  against  luxury  and  vice, 
and  as  a  testimony  to  the  beauty  and  dignity  of  pure 
love,  stanch  fidelity,  and  quiet,  wholesome,  primitive 
country  manners.  It  breathes  the  spirit  that  reappears 
in  Goldsmith's  Deserted  Village,  and  inspires  the  muse 
of  Wordsworth,  as  in  the  poem  which  contrasts  the 
dove's  simple  notes  with  the  nightingale's  tumultuous 
song,  saying  of  the  huaiely  bird, 

"  He  sang  of  love  with  quiet  blending ; 
Slow  to  begin,  and  never  ending; 
Of  serious  faith  and  inward  glee; 
That  was  the  song — the  song  for  me." 

'  See  Ency.  Brit.,  Art.  "Canticles,"  by  Robertson  Smith. 


CHAPTER   II 

TRUE  LOVE   TESTED 
Chapter  i. — v.  i 

THE  poem  opens  with  a  scene  in  Solomon's  palace. 
A  country  maiden  has  just  been  introduced  to 
the  royal  harem.  The  situation  is  painful  enough  in 
itself,  for  the  poor,  shy  girl  is  experiencing  the  miserable 
loneliness  of  finding  herself  in  an  unsympathetic  crowd. 
But  that  is  not  all.  She  is  at  once  the  object  of 
general  observation  ;  every  eye  is  turned  towards  her ; 
and  curiosity  is  only  succeeded  by  ill-concealed  disgust. 
Still  the  slavish  women,  presumably  acting  on  command, 
set  themselves  to  excite  the  new  comer's  admiration  for 
their  lord  and  master.  First  one  speaks  some  bold 
amorous  words,^  and  then  the  whole  chorus  follows.^ 
All  this  is  distressing  and  alarming  to  the  captive, 
who  calls  on  her  absent  lover  to  fetch  her  away  from 
such  an  uncongenial  scene  ;  she  longs  to  run  after  him  ; 
for  it  is  the  king  who  has  brought  her  into  his  chambers, 
not  her  own  will.^  The  women  of  the  harem  take  no 
notice  of  this  interruption,  but  finish  their  ode  on  the 
charms  of  Solomon.  All  the  while  they  are  staring  at 
the  rustic  maiden,  and  she  now  becomes  conscious  of 
a  growing  contempt  in  their  looks.  What  is  she  that 
the   attractions   of  the    king   before  which  the  dainty 

•i.  2.  M.3.  M.4. 

15 


i6  THE  SONG   OF  SOLOMON 

ladies  of.  the  court  prostrate  themselves  should  have 
no  fascination  for  her?  She  notices  the  contrast  be- 
tween the  swarthy  hue  of  her  sun-burnt  countenance 
and  the  pale  complexion  of  these  pampered  products 
of  palace  seclusion.  She  is  so  dark  in  comparison 
with  them  that  she  likens  herself  to  the  black  goats- 
hair  tents  of  the  Arabs.^  The  explanation  is  that  her 
brothers  have  made  her  work  in  their  vineyards.  Mean- 
while she  has  not  kept  her  own  vineyard.^  She  has 
not  guarded  her  beauty  as  these  idle  women,  who  have 
nothing  else  to  do,  have  guarded  theirs  ;  but  perhaps 
she  has  a  sadder  thought — she  could  not  protect 
herself  when  out  alone  at  her  task  in  the  country 
or  she  would  never  have  been  captured  and  carried 
off  to  the  prison  where  she  now  sits  disconsolate. 
Possibly  the  vineyard  she  has  not  kept  is  the  lover 
whom  she  has  lost.^  Still  she  is  a  woman,  and  with 
a  touch  of  piqued  pride  she  reminds  her  critics  that 
if  she  is  dark — black  compared  with  them — she  is 
comely.  They  cannot  deny  that.  It  is  the  cause  of 
all  her  misery;  she  owes  her  imprisonment  to  her 
beauty.  She  knows  that  their  secret  feeling  is  one  of 
envy  of  her,  the  latest  favourite.  Then  their  affected 
contempt  is  groundless.  But,  indeed,  she  has  no 
desire  to  stand  as  their  rival.  She  would  gladly  make 
her  escape.  She  speaks  in  a  half  sohloquy.  Will  not 
somebody  tell  her  where  he  is  whom  her  soul  loveth  ? 
Where  is  her  lost  shepherd  lad  ?  Where  is  he  feeding 
his  flock  ?  Where  is  he  resting  it  at  noon  ?  Such 
questions  only  provoke  mockery.  Addressing  the  simple 
girl  as  the  "  fairest  among  women,"  the  court  ladies  bid 
her  find  her  lover  for  herself.     Let  her  go  back  to  her 

'  i.  5.  2  i_  5_  3  See  viii.  12. 


.]  TRUE  LOVE   TESTED 


country  life  and  feed  her  kids  by  the  shepherds'  tents. 
Doubtless  if  she  is  bold  enough  to  court  her  swain  in 
that  way  she  will  not  miss  seeing  him. 

Hitherto  Solomon  has  not  appeared.  Now  he  comes 
on  the  scene,  and  proceeds  to  accost  his  new  acquisi- 
tion in  highly  complimentary  language,  with  the  ease 
of  an  expert  in  the  art  of  courtship.  At  this  point  we 
encounter  the  most  serious  difficulty  for  the  theory 
of  a  shepherd  lover.  To  all  appearances  a  dialogue 
between  the  king  and  the  Shulamraite  here  ensues.^ 
But  if  this  were  the  case,  the  country  girl  would  be 
addressing  Solomon  in  terms  of  the  utmost  endearment 
— conduct  utterly  incompatible  with  the  **  shepherd 
hypothesis."  The  only  alternative  is  to  suppose  that 
the  hard-pressed  girl  takes  refuge  from  the  importunity 
of  her  royal  flatterer  by  turning  aside  to  an  imaginary, 
half  dream-like  conversation  with  her  absent  lover. 
This  is  not  by  any  means  a  probable  position,  it  must 
be  allowed ;  it  seems  to  put  a  strained  interpretation 
on  the  text.  Undoubtedly  if  the  passage  before  us 
stood  by  itself,  there  would  not  be  any  difference  of 
opinion  about  it ;  everybody  would  take  it  in  its  obvious 
meaning  as  a  conversation  between  two  lovers.  But 
it  does  not  stand  by  itself — unless,  indeed,  we  are  to 
give  up  the  unity  of  the  book.  Therefore  it  must  be 
interpreted  so  as  not  to  contradict  the  whole  course  o( 
the  poem,  which  shews  that  another  than  Solomon  is 
the  true  lover  of  the  disconsolate  maiden. 

The  king  begins  with  the  familiar  device  by  which 
rich  men  all  the  world  over  try  to  win  the  confidence 
of  poor  girls  when  there  is  no  love  on  either  side, — a 
device  which  has  been  only  too  successful  in  the  case 

'  i.  9 — ii.  6. 


t8  The  song  of  Solomon 

of  many  a  weak  Marguerite  though  her  tempter  has 
not  always  been  a  handsome  Faust ;  but  in  the  present 
case  innocence  is  fortified  by  true  love,  and  the  trick 
is  a  failure.  The  king  notices  that  this  peasant  girl 
has  but  simple  plaited  hair  and  homely  ornaments. 
She  shall  have  plaits  of  gold  and  studs  of  silver  I 
Splendid  as  one  of  Pharaoh's  chariot  horses,  she  shall 
be  decorated  as  magnificently  as  they  are  decorated  1 
What  is  this  to  our  stanch  heroine  ?  She  treats  it 
with  absolute  indifference,  and  begins  to  soliloquise, 
with  a  touch  of  scorn  in  her  language.  She  has  been 
loaded  with  scent  after  the  manner  of  the  luxurious 
court,  and  the  king  while  seated  feasting  at  his  table 
has  caught  the  odour  of  the  rich  perfumes.  That  is 
why  he  is  now  by  her  side.  Does  he  think  that  she 
will  serve  as  a  new  dainty  for  the  great  banquet,  as  a 
fresh  filHp  for  the  jaded  appetite  of  the  royal  volup- 
tuary ?  If  so  he  is  much  mistaken.  The  king's 
promises  have  no  attraction  for  her,  and  she  turns  for 
relief  to  dear  memories  of  her  true  l5ve.  The  thought 
of  him  is  fragrant  as  the  bundle  of  myrrh  she  carries 
in  her  bosom,  as  the  henna-flowers  that  bloom  in  the 
vineyards  of  far-off  Engedi. 

Clearly  Solomon  has  made  a  clumsy  move.  This 
shy  bird  is  not  of  the  common  species  with  which  he 
is  familiar.  He  must  aim  higher  if  he  would  bring 
down  his  quarry.  She  is  not  to  be  classed  with  the 
wares  of  the  matrimonial  market  that  are  only  waiting 
to  be  assigned  to  the  richest  bidder.  She  cannot  be 
bought  even  by  the  wealth  of  a  king's  treasury.  But 
if  there  is  a  woman  who  can  resist  the  charms  of  finery, 
is  there  one  who  can  stand  against  the  admiration  of 
her  personal  beauty  ?  A  man  of  Solomon's  experience 
would   scarcely    believe   that    such   was   to    be  found. 


i.-v.  i.j  TRUE  LOVE   TESTED  i$ 

Nevertheless  now  the  sex  he  estimates  too  Hghtly  is 
to  be  vindicated,  while  the  king  himself  is  to  be  taught 
a  wholesome  lesson.  He  may  call  her  fair;  he  may 
praise  her  dove-like  eyes.^  His  flattery  is  lost  upon 
her.  She  only  thinks  of  the  beauty  of  her  shepherd 
lad,  and  pictures  to  herself  the  green  bank  on  which 
they  used  to  sit,  with  the  cedars  and  firs  for  the  beams 
and  roof  of  their  trysting-place.^  Her  language  carries 
us  away  from  the  gilded  splendour  and  close,  per- 
fumed atmosphere  of  the  royal  palace  to  scenes  such 
as  Shakespeare  presents  in  the  forest  of  Arden  and  the 
haunts  of  Titania,  and  Milton  in  the  Mask  of  Comus. 
Here  is  a  Hebrew  lady  longing  to  escape  from  the 
clutches  of  one  who  for  all  his  glory  is  not  v/ithout 
some  of  the  offensive  traits  of  the  monster  Comus. 
She  thinks  of  herself  as  a  wild  flower,  like  the 
crocus  that  grows  on  the  plains  of  Sharon  or  the 
lily  (literally  the  anemone)  that  is  sprinkled  so  freely 
over  the  upland  valleys,^  The  open  country  is  the 
natural  habitat  of  such  a  plant,  not  the  stifling  court. 
Solomon  catches  at  her  beautiful  imagery.  Compared 
with  other  maidens  she  is  like  a  lily  among  thorns.* 

And  now  these  scenes  of  nature  cairy  the  persecuted 
girl  away  in  a  sort  of  reverie.  If  she  is  like  the  tender 
flower,  her  lover  resembles  the  apple  tree  at  the  foot 
of  which  it  nestles,  a  tree  the  shadow  of  which  is 
delightful  and  its  fruit  sweet. ^  She  remembers  how 
he  brought  her  to  his  banqueting  house ;  that  rustic 
bower  was  a  very  different  place  from  the  grand  divan 
on  which  she  had  seen  Solomon  sitting  at  his  table. 
No  purple  hangings  like  those  of  the  king's  palace  there 


i.  IS. 
i.  i6,  17. 


THE  SONG   OF  SOLOMON 


screened  her  from  the  sun.  The  only  banner  her 
shepherd  could  spread  over  her  was  love,  his  own 
love.-^     But  what  could  be  a  more  perfect  shelter  ? 

She  is  fainting.  How  she  longs  for  her  lover  to 
comfort  her  1  She  has  just  compared  him  to  an  apple 
tree  ;  now  the  refreshment  she  hungers  for  is  the  fruit 
of  this  tree  ;  that  is  to  say,  his  love.^  Oh  that  he 
would  put  his  arms  round  her  and  support  her,  as 
in  the  old  happy  days  before  she  had  been  snatched 
away  from  him  !  ^ 

Next  follows  a  verse  which  is  repeated  later,  and  so 
serves  as  a  sort  of  refrain/  The  Shulammite  adjures 
the  daughters  of  Jerusalem  not  to  awaken  love.  This 
verse  is  misrendered  in  the  Authorised  Version,  which 
inserts  the  pronoun  "  my  "  before  "  love  "  without  any 
warrant  in  the  Hebrew  text.  The  poor  girl  has  spoken 
of  apples.  But  the  court  ladies  must  not  misunder- 
stand her.  She  wants  none  of  their  love  apples,^  no 
philtre,  no  charm  to  turn  her  affections  away  from  her 
shepherd  lover  and  pervert  them  to  the  importunate 
royal  suitor.  The  opening  words  of  the  poem  which 
celebrated  the  charms  of  Solomon  had  been  aimed  in 
that  direction.  The  motive  of  the  work  seems  to  be 
the  Shulammite's  resistance  to  various  attempts  to  move 
her  from  loyalty  to  her  true  love.  It  is  natural,  there- 
fore, that  an  appeal  to  desist  from  all  such  attempts 
should  come  out  emphatically. 

The  poem  takes  a  new  turn.  In  imagination  the 
Shulammite  hears  the  voice  of  her  beloved.  She 
pictures  him  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  lofty  rock  on 
which  the  harem  is  built,  and  crying, — 


ii.  4.  '  ii.  6.  ^  See  Gt 

ii.  5.  *  ii.  7. 


.]  TRUE  LOVE   TESTED 


"  Oh,  my  dove,  that  art  in  the  clefts  of  the  rock,   in  the  cover 
of  the  steep  place, 
Let  me  see  thy  countenance,  let  me  hear  thy  voice  ; 
For  sweet  is  thy  voice,  and  thy  countenance  is  comely." ' 

He  is  like  a  troubadour  singing  to  his  imprisoned 
lady-love  ;  and  she,  in  her  soliloquys,  though  not  by  any 
means  a  "  high-born  maiden,"  may  call  to  mind  the 
simile  in  Shelley's  Sky/ark  : — 

"  Like  a  high-born  maiden 

In  a  palace  tower, 

Soothing  her  love-laden 

Soul  in  secret  hour. 

With  music  sweet  as  love,  which  overflows  her  bower." 

She  remembers  how  her  lover  had  come  to  her 
bounding  over  the  hills  "  Hke  a  roe  or  a  young  hart,"  ^ 
and  peeping  in  at  her  lattice  ;  and  she  repeats  the  song 
with  which  he  had  called  her  out — one  of  the  sweetest 
songs  of  spring  that  ever  was  sung.^  In  our  own 
green  island  we  acknowledge  that  this  is  the  most 
beautiful  season  of  all  the  round  year  ;  but  in  Palestine 
it  stands  out  in  more  strongly  pronounced  contrast  to 
the  three  other  seasons,  and  it  is  in  itself  exceedingly 
lovely.  While  summer  and  autumn  are  there  parched 
with  drought,  barren  and  desolate,  and  while  winter 
is  often  dreary  with  snow-storms  and  floods  of  rain, 
in  spring  the  whole  land  is  one  lovely  garden,  ablaze 
with  richest  hues,  hill  and  dale,  v/ilderness  and  farm- 
land vying  in  the  luxuriance  of  their  wild  flowers,  from 
the  red  anemone  that  fires  the  steep  sides  of  the 
mountains  to  the  purple  and  white  cyclamen  that  nestles 
among  the  rocks  at  their  feet.  Much  of  the  beauty  of 
this  poem  is  found  in  the  fact  that  it  is  pervaded  by 

'  ii.  14.  "  ii.  9.  *  ii.  U-13. 


THE  SONG   OF  SOLOMON 


the  spirit  of  an  eastern  spring.  This  makes  it  possible 
to  introduce  a  wealth  of  beautiful  imagery  which  would 
not  have  been  appropriate  if  any  other  season  had 
been  chosen.  Even  more  lovely  in  March  than  England 
is  in  May,  Palestine  comes  nearest  to  the  appearance 
of  our  country  in  the  former  month  ;  so  that  this  poem, 
that  is  so  completely  bathed  in  the  atmosphere  of  early 
spring,  calls  up  echoes  of  the  exquisite  English  garden 
pictures  in  Shelley's  Sensitive  Plant  and  Tennyson's 
Maud.  But  it  is  not  only  beauty  of  imagery  that  our 
poet  gains  by  setting  his  work  in  this  lovely  season. 
His  ideas  are  all  in  harmony  with  the  period  of  the 
year  he  describes  so  charmingly.  It  is  the  time  of  youth 
and  hope,  of  joy  and  love — especially  of  love,  for, 

"  In  the  spring  a  young  man's  fancy 
Lightly  turns  to  thoughts  of  love." 

There  is  even  a  deeper  association  between  the  ideas 
of  the  poem  and  the  season  in  which  it  is  set.  None 
of  the  freshness  of  spring  is  to  be  found  about  Solomon 
and  his  harem,  but  it  is  all  present  in  the  Shulammite 
and  her  shepherd;  and  spring  scenes  and  thoughts 
powerfully  aid  the  motive  of  the  poem  in  accentuating 
the  contrast  between  the  tawdry  magnificence  of  the 
court  and  the  pure,  simple  beauty  of  the  country  life 
to  which  the  heroine  of  the  poem  clings  so  faithfully. 

The  Shulammite  answers  her  lover  in  an  old  ditty 
about  "  the  little  foxes  that  spoil  the  vineyards."  ^  He 
would  recognise  that,  and  so  discover  her  presence.  We 
are  reminded  of  the  legend  of  Richard's  page  finding 
his  master  by  singing  a  familiar  ballad  outside  the  walls 
of  the  castle  in  the  Tyrol  where  the  captive  crusader 


n.  15- 


i.-v.  I.]  TRUE  LOVE   TESTED  23 

was  imprisoned.  This  is  all  imaginary.  And  yet  the 
faithful  girl  knows  in  her  heart  that  her  beloved  is  hers 
and  that  she  is  his,  although  in  sober  reality  he  is  now 
feeding  his  flocks  in  the  far-off  flowery  fields  of  her 
old  home.^  There  he  must  remain  till  the  cool  of 
the  evening,  till  the  shadows  melt  into  the  darkness 
of  night,  when  she  would  fain  he  returned  to  her, 
coming  over  the  rugged  mountains  "  like  a  roe  or  a 
young  hart." " 

NovsT  the  Shulammite  tells  a  painful  dream.^  She 
dreamed  that  she  had  lost  her  lover,  and  that  she  rose 
up  at  night  and  went  out  into  the  streets  seeking  him. 
At  first  she  failed  to  find  him.  She  asked  the  watch- 
men whom  she  met  on  their  round,  if  they  had  seen 
him  whom  her  soul  loved.  They  could  not  help  her 
quest.  But  a  little  while  after  leaving  them  she  dis- 
covered the  missing  lover,  and  brought  him  safely  into 
her  mother's  house. 

After  a  repetition  of  the  warning  to  the  daughters 
of  Jerusalem  not  to  awaken  love,*  we  are  introduced 
to  a  new  scene.^  It  is  by  one  of  the  gates  of  Jeru- 
salem, where  the  country  maiden  has  been  brought 
in  order  that  she  may  be  impressed  by  the  gorgeous 
spectacle  of  Solomon  returning  from  a  royal  progress. 
The  king  comes  up  from  the  wilderness  in  clouds  of 
perfume,  guarded  by  sixty  men-at-arms,  and  borne  in 
a  magnificent  palanquin  of  cedar-wood,  with  silver  posts, 
a  floor  of  gold,  and  purple  cushions,  wearing  on  his 
head  the  crown  with  which  his  mother  had  crowned 
him.  Is  the  mention  of  the  mother  of  Solomon  intended 
to  be  specially  significant  ?    Remember — she  was  Bath- 

'  ii,  16.  3  iii.  1-4.  ^  iii.  6-11. 

■  ii.  17.  '  Jii.  5- 


24  THE  SONG   OF  SOLOMON 


sheba  !  The  allusion  to  such  a  woman  would  not  be 
likely  to  conciliate  the  pure  young  girl  who  was  not 
in  the  least  degree  moved  by  this  attempt  to  charm  her 
with  a  scene  of  exceptional  magnificence. 

Solomon  now  appears  again,  praising  his  captive  in 
extravagant  language  of  courtly  flattery.  He  praises 
her  dove-like  eyes,  her  voluminous  black  hair,  her 
rosy  lips,  her  noble  brow  (not  even  disguised  by  her 
veil),  her  towering  neck,  her  tender  bosom — lovely  as 
twin  gazelles  that  feed  among  the  lilies.  Like  her  lover, 
who  is  necessarily  away  with  his  flock,  Solomon  will 
leave  her  till  the  cool  of  the  evening,  till  the  shadows 
melt  into  night ;  but  he  has  no  pastoral  duties  to 
attend  to,  and  though  the  delicate  balancing  and 
assimilation  of  phrase  and  idea  is  gracefully  mani- 
pulated, there  is  a  change.  The  king  will  go  to 
"  mountains  of  myrrh  "  and  "  hills  of  frankincense,"  ^ 
to  make  his  person  more  fragrant,  and  so,  as  he  hopes, 
more  welcome. 

If  we  adopt  the  *'  shepherd  hypothesis "  the  next 
section  of  the  poem  must  be  assigned  to  the  rustic 
lover.^  It  is  difficult  to  believe  that  this  peasant  would 
be  allowed  to  speak  to  a  lady  in  the  royal  harem. 
We  might  suppose  that  here  and  perhaps  also  in  the 
earlier  scene  the  shepherd  is  represented  as  actually 
present  at  the  foot  of  the  rock  on  which  the  palace 
stands.  Otherwise  this  also  must  be  taken  as  an 
imaginary  scene,  or  as  a  reminiscence  of  the  dreamy 
girl.  Although  a  thread  of  unity  runs  through  the 
whole  poem,  Goethe  was  clearly  correct  in  calling  it 
"a  medley."  Scenes  real  and  im.aginary  melting  one 
into    another    cannot   take    their   places    in    a    regular 

'   iv,  6.  -  iv.  8-15. 


i.-v.  I.]  TRUE   LOVE    TESTED  25 

drama.  But  when  we  grant  full  liberty  to  the  imaginary 
element  there  is  less  necessity  to  ask  what  is  subjective 
and  what  objective,  what  only  fancied  by  the  Shulam- 
mite  and  what  intended  to  be  taken  as  an  actual 
occurrence.  Strictly  speaking,  nothing  is  actual ;  the 
whole  poem  is  a  highly  imaginative  series  of  fancy 
pictures  illustrating  the  development  of  its  leading 
ideas. 

Next — whether  we  take  it  as  in  imagination  or  in 
fact — the  shepherd  lover  calls  his  bride  to  follow  him 
from  the  most  remote  regions.  His  language  is  entirely 
different  from  that  of  the  magnificent  monarch.  He 
does  not  waste  his  breath  in  formal  compliments, 
high-flown  imagery,  wearisome  lists  of  the  charms  of 
the  girl  he  loves.  That  was  the  clumsy  method  of  the 
king ;  clumsy,  though  reflecting  the  finished  manners 
of  the  court,  in  comparison  with  the  genuine  outpour- 
ings of  the  heart  of  a  country  lad.  The  shepherd  is 
eloquent  with  the  inspiration  of  true  love  ;  his  words 
throb  and  glow  with  genuine  emotion ;  there  is  a  fine, 
wholesome  passion  in  them.  The  love  of  his  bride 
has  ravished  his  heart.  How  beautiful  is  her  love  ! 
He  is  intoxicated  with  it  more  than  with  wine.  How 
sweet  are  her  words  of  tender  affection,  Hke  milk  and 
honey !  She  is  so  pure,  there  is  something  sisterly 
in  her  love  with  all  its  warmth.  And  she  is  so  near 
to  him  that  she  is  almost  hke  part  of  himself,  as  his 
own  sister.  This  holy  and  close  relationship  is  in 
startling  contrast  to  the  only  thing  known  as  love  in  the 
royal  harem.  It  is  as  much  more  lofty  and  noble  as  it 
is  more  strong  and  deep  than  the  jaded  emotions  of  the 
court.  The  sweet  pure  maiden  is  to  the  shepherd  like 
a  garden  the  gate  of  which  is  barred  against  tres- 
passers, like  a  spring  shut  off  from -casual  access, 'like 


26  THE  SONG   OF  SOLOMON 

a  sealed  fountain — -sealed  to  all  but  one,  and,  happy 
man,  he  is  that  one.  To  him  she  belongs,  to  him 
alone.  She  is  a  garden,  yes,  a  most  fragrant  garden, 
an  orchard  of  pomegranates  full  of  rich  fruit,  crowded 
with  sweet-scented  plants — henna  and  spikenard  and 
saffron,  calamus  and  cinnamon  and  all  kinds  of  frankin- 
cense, myrrh  and  aloes  and  the  best  of  spices.  She  is 
a  fountain  in  the  garden,  sealed  to  all  others,  but  not 
stinted  towards  the  one  she  loves.  To  him  she  is  as 
a  well  of  living  waters,  like  the  full-fed  streams  that 
flow  from  Lebanon. 

The  maiden  is  supposed  to  hear  the  song  of  love. 
She  replies  in  fearless  words  of  welcome,  bidding  the 
north  wind  awake,  and  the  south  wind  too,  that  the 
fragrance  of  which  her  lover  has  spoken  so  enthusi- 
astically may  flow  out  more  richly  than  ever.  For  his 
sake  she  would  be  more  sweet  and  loving.  All  she 
possesses  is  for  him.  Let  him  come  and  take  possession 
of  his  own.-^ 

What  lover  could  turn  aside  from  such  a  rapturous 
invitation  ?  The  shephferd  takes  his  bride  ;  he  enters 
his  garden,  gathers  his  myrrh  and  spice,  eats  his 
honey  and  drinks  his  wine  and  milk,  and  calls  on  his 
friends  to  feast  and  drink  with  him.^  This  seems  to 
point  to  the  marriage  of  the  couple  and  their  wedding 
feast ;  a  view  of  the  passage  which  interpreters  who 
regard  Solomon  as  the  lover  throughout  for  the  most 
part  take,  but  one  which  has  this  fatal  objection,  that 
it  leaves  the  second  half  of  the  poem  without  a  motive. 
On  the  hypothesis  of  the  shepherd  lover  it  is  still  more 
difficult  to  suppose  the  wedding  to  have  occurred  at 
the  point  we  have  now  reached,  for  the  distraction  of 

'   iv,  16.  V.  I 


i.-v.  I.]  TRUE  LOVE   TESTED  27 

the  royal  courtship  still  proceeds  in  subsequent  pas- 
sages of  the  poem.  It  would  seem,  then,  that  we  must 
regard  this  as  quite  an  ideal  scene.  It  may,  however, 
be  taken  as  a  reminiscence  of  an  earlier  passage  in  the 
lives  of  the  two  lovers.  It  is  not  impossible  that  it 
refers  to  their  wedding,  and  that  they  had  been  married 
before  the  action  of  the  whole  story  began.  In  that 
case  we  should  have  to  suppose  that  Solomon's  officers 
had  carried  off  a  young  bride  to  the  royal  harem.  The 
intensity  of  the  love  and  the  bitterness  of  the  separation 
apparent  throughout  the  poem  would  be  the  more  intelli- 
gible if  this  were  the  situation.  It  is  to  be  remembered 
that  Shakespeare  ascribes  the  climax  of  the  love  and 
grief  of  Romeo  and  Juliet  to  a  time  after  their  marriage. 
But  the  difficulty  of  accepting  this  view  lies  in  the 
improbability  that  so  outrageous  a  crime  would  be 
attributed  to  Solomon,  although  it  must  be  admitted  that 
the  guilty  conduct  of  his  father  and  mother  had  gone 
a  long  way  in  setting  an  example  for  the  violation  of 
the  marriage  tie.  In  dealing  with  vague  and  dreamy 
poetry  such  as  that  of  the  Song  of  Solomon,  it  is  not 
possible  to  determine  a  point  like  this  with  precision  ; 
nor  is  it  necessary  to  do  so.  The  beauty  and  force  of 
the  passage  now  before  us  centre  in  the  perfect  mutual 
love  of  the  two  young  hearts  that  here  show  themselves 
to  be  knit  together  as  one,  whether  already  actually 
married  or  not  yet  thus  externally  united. 


CHAPTER   III 

LOVE   UNQUENCHABLE 
Chapter  v.  l-viii 

WE  have  seen  how  this  strange  poem  mingles  fact 
and  fancy,  memory  and  reverie,  in  what  would 
be  hopeless  confusion  if  we  could  not  detect  a  common 
prevailing  sentiment  and  one  aim  towards  which  the 
whole  is  tending,  with  all  its  rapidly  shifting  scenes  and 
all  its  perplexingly  varying  movements.  The  middle 
of  the  poem  attains  a  perfect  climax  of  love  and  rapture. 
Then  v/e  are  suddenly  transported  to  an  entirely  differ- 
ent scene.  The  Shulammite  recites  a  second  dream, 
which  somewhat  resembles  her  former  dream,  but  is 
more  vivid  and  intense,  and  ends  very  painfully.^  The 
circumstances  of  it  will  agree  most  readily  with  the 
idea  that  she  is  already  married  to  the  shepherd. 
Again  it  is  a  dream  of  the  loss  of  her  lover,  and  of  her 
search  for  him  by  night  in  the  streets  of  Jerusalem. 
But  in  the  present  case  he  was  first  close  to  her,  and 
then  he  deserted  her  most  unaccountably  ;  and  when 
she  went  to  look  for  him  this  time  she  failed  to 
find  him,  and  met  with  cruel  ill-treatment.  In  her 
dream  she  fancies  she  hears  the  bridegroom  knocking 
at  her  cha.mber  door  and  calling  upon  her  as  his  sister, 
his  love,  his  dove,  his  undefiled,  to  open  to  him.     He 


V.   2- 
28 


V,  l-viii.]  LOVE    U.VQUENCHABLE  29 

has  just  returned  froni  tending  his  flock  in  the  night, 
and  his  hair  is  wet  with  the  dew.  The  bride  coyly 
excuses  herself,  on  the  plea  that  she  has  laid  aside  her 
mantle  and  washed  her  feet ;  as  though  it  would  vex 
her  to  put  her  feet  to  the  ground  again.  This  is  but 
the  playful  reluctance  of  love  ;  for  no  sooner  is  her 
beloved  really  lost  than  she  undertakes  the  greatest 
trouble  in  the  search  for  him.  When  he  puts  in  his 
hand  to  lift  the  latch,  her  heart  is  moved  towards  him, 
and  she  rises  to  open  the  door.  On  touching  the  lock 
she  finds  it  covered  with  liquid  myrrh.  It  has  been 
ingeniously  suggested  that  we  have  heie  a  reference  to 
the  construction  of  an  eastern  lock,  with  a  wooden  pin 
dropped  into  the  bolt,  which  is  intended  to  be  lifted  by 
a  key,  but  which  may  be  raised  by  a  man's  finger  if 
he  is  provided  with  some  viscid  substance,  such  as 
the  ointment  here  mentioned,  to  adhere  to  the  pin. 
The  little  detail  shews  that  the  lover  or  bridegroom  had 
come  with  the  deHberate  intention  of  entering.  How 
strange,  then,  that  when  the  bride  opens  the  door  he 
is  not  to  be  seen  !  Why  has  he  fled  ?  The  shock  of 
this  surprise  quite  overwhelms  the  poor  girl,  and  she 
is  on  the  point  of  fainting.  She  looks  about  for  her 
vanished  lover,  and  calls  him  by  name ;  but  there  is 
no  answer.  She  goes  out  to  seek  for  him  in  the  streets, 
and  there  the  watchmen  cuff  and  bruise  her,  and  the 
sentry  on  the  city  walls  rudely  tear  off  her  veil. 

Returning  from  the  distressing  recollection  of  her 
dream  to  the  present  condition  of  affairs,  the  sorrowful 
Shulammite  adjures  the  daughters  of  Jerusalem  to  tell 
her  if  they  have  found  her  love.^  They  respond  by 
asking,    what   is   her   beloved    more   than   any    other 


3o  THE  SONG  OF  SOLOMON 

beloved  ?  ^  This  mocking  question  of  the  harem  women 
rouses  the  Shulammite,  and  affords  an  opportunity  for 
descanting  on  the  beauty  of  her  love.^  He  is  both  fair 
and  ruddy,  the  chiefest  among  ten  thousand.  For  this 
is  what  he  is  hke  :  a  head  splendid  as  finest  gold  ; 
massive,  curling,  raven  locks ;  eyes  like  doves  by  water 
brooks,  and  looking  as  though  they  had  been  washed 
in  milk — an  elaborate  image  in  which  the  soft  iris  and 
the  sparkling  light  on  the  pupils  suggest  the  picture 
of  the  gentle  birds  brooding  on  the  bank  of  a  flashing 
stream,  and  the  pure,  healthy  eyeballs  a  thought  of  the 
whiteness  of  milk ;  cheeks  fragrant  as  spices ;  hps 
red  as  lilies  (the  blood-red  anemones)  ;  a  body  like 
ivory,  with  blue  veins  as  of  sapphire  ;  legs  like  marble 
columns  on  golden  bases.  The  aspect  of  him  is  like 
great  Lebanon,  splendid  as  the  far-famed  cedars;  and 
when  he  opens  his  lips  his  voice  is  ravishingly  sweet. 
Yes,  he  is  altogether  lovely.  Such  is  her  beloved,  her 
dearest  one. 

The  mocking  ladies  ask  their  victim  where  then  has 
this  paragon  gone  ?  ^  She  would  have  them  under- 
stand that  he  has  not  been  so  cruel  as  really  to  desert 
her.  It  was  only  in  her  dream  that  he  treated  her" 
with  such  unaccountable  fickleness.  The  plain  fact  is 
that  he  is  away  at  his  work  on  his  far-off  farm,  feeding 
his  flock,  and  perhaps  gathering  a  posy  of  flowers 
for  his  bride.*  He  is  far  away, — that  sad  truth  cannot 
be  denied ;  and  yet  he  is  not  really  lost,  for  love  laughs 
at  time  and  distance ;  the  poor  lonely  girl  can  say  still 
that  she  is  her  beloved's  and  that  he  is  hers.*^  The 
reappearance  of  this  phrase  suggests  that  it  is  intended 


V.  9,  ■'  vi.  I.  "  vi.  3. 

V.  10-16.  *  vi.  2. 


V.  1-viii.]  LOVE    UNQUENCHABLE  3t 

to  serve  as  a  sort  of  refrain.  Thus  it  comes  in  with 
admirable  fitness  to  balance  the  other  refrain  to  which 
reference  has  been  made  earlier/  In  the  first  refrain 
the  daughters  of  Jerusalem  are  besought  not  to  attempt 
to  awaken  the  Shulammite's  love  for  Solomon ;  this 
is  well  balanced  by  the  refrain  in  which  she  declares 
the  constancy  of  the  mutual  love  that  exists  between 
herself  and  the  shepherd. 

Now  Solomon  reappears  on  the  scene,  and  resumes 
his  laudation  of  the  Shulammite's  beauty.^  But  there 
is  a  marked  change  in  his  manner.  This  most  recent 
capture  is  quite  unlike  the  sort  of  girls  with  whom 
his  harem  was  stocked  from  time  to  time.  He  had 
no  reverence  for  any  of  them ;  they  all  considered  them- 
selves to  be  highly  honoured  by  his  favour,  all  adored 
him  v/ith  slavish  admiration,  like  that  expressed  by 
one  of  them  in  the  first  line  of  the  poem.  But  he  is 
positively  afraid  of  the  Shulammite.  She  is  "  terrible 
as  an  army  with  banners."  He  cannot  bear  to  look 
at  her  eyes  ;  he  begs  her  to  turn  them  away  from  him, 
for  they  have  overcome  him.  What  is  the  meaning 
of  this  new  attitude  on  the  part  of  the  mighty  monarch  ? 
There  is  something  awful  in  the  simple  peasant  girl. 
The  purity,  the  constancy,  the  cold  scorn  with  which 
she  regards  the  king,  are  as  humiliating  as  they  are 
novel  in  his  experience.  Yet  it  is  well  for  him  that 
he  is  susceptible  to  their  influence.  He  is  greatly 
injured  and  corrupted  by  the  manners  of  a  luxurious 
oriental  court.  But  he  is  not  a  seared  profligate.  The 
vision  of  goodness  startles  him ;  then  there  is  a  better 
nature  in  him,  and  its  slumbering  powers  are  partly 
roused  by  this  unexpected  apparition. 

'  Page  20.  -  vi.  4-7. 


THE  SONG   OF  SOLOMON 


We  have  now  reached  a  very  important  point  in  the 
poem.  It  is  almost  impossible  to  reconcile  this  with 
the  theory  that  Solomon  is  the  one  and  only  lover 
referred  to  throughout.  But  on  the  "  shepherd  h3'po- 
thesis "  the  position  is  most  significant.  The  value 
of  constancy  in  love  is  not  only  seen  in  the  steadfast 
character  of  one  who  is  sorely  tempted  to  yield  to 
other  influences  ;  it  is  also  apparent  in  the  effects  on 
a  spectator  of  so  uncongenial  a  nature  as  king  Solomon. 
Thus  the  poet  brings  out  the  great  idea  of  his  work 
most  vividl}^  He  could  not  have  done  so  more  forcibly 
than  by  choosing  the  court  of  Solomon  for  the  scene 
of  the  trial,  and  shewing  the  startling  effect  of  the 
noble  virtue  of  constancy  on  the  king  himself 

Here  we  are  face  to  face  with  one  of  the  rescuing 
influences  of  life,  which  may  be  met  in  various  forms. 
A  true  woman,  an  innocent  child,  a  pure  man,  coming 
across  the  path  of  one  who  has  permitted  himself  to 
slide  down  towards  murky  depths,  arrests  his  attention 
with  a  painful  shock  of  surprise.  The  result  is  a 
revelation  to  him,  in  the  light  of  which  he  discovers, 
to  his  horror,  how  far  he  has  fallen.  It  is  a  sort  of 
incarnate  conscience  warning  him  of  the  still  lower 
degradation  towards  which  he  is  sinking.  Perhaps 
it  strikes  him  as  a  beacon  light,  shewing  the  path  up 
to  purity  and  peace  ;  an  angel  from  heaven  sent  to  help 
him  retrace  his  steps  and  return  to  his  better  self. 
Few  men  are  so  abandoned  as  never  to  be  visited  by 
some  such  gleam  from  higher  regions.  To  many,  alas, 
it  comes  but  as  the  temporary  rift  in  the  clouds  through 
which  for  one  brief  moment  the  blue  sky  becomes 
visible  even  on  a  wild  and  stormy  day,  soon  to  be  lost 
in  deeper  darkness.  Happy  are  they  who  obey  its 
unexpected  message. 


V.  i-viii.]  LOVE   UNQUENCHABLE  33 

The  concluding  words  of  the  passage  which  opens 
with  Solomon's  praises  of  the  Shulammite  present 
another  of  the  many  difficulties  with  which  the  poem 
abounds.  Mention  is  made  of  Solomon's  sixty  queens, 
his  eighty  concubines,  his  maidens  without  number ; 
and  then  the  Shulammite  is  contrasted  with  this  vast 
seraglio  as  "  My  dove,  my  undefiled,"  who  is  "  but 
one  " — "  the  only  one  of  her  mother."  ^  Who  is  speak- 
ing here?  If  this  is  a  continuation  of  Solomon's 
speech,  as  the  flow  of  the  verses  would  suggest,  it  must 
mean  that  the  king  would  set  his  newest  acquisition 
quite  apart  from  all  the  ladies  of  the  harem,  as  his 
choice  and  treasured  bride.  Those  who  regard  Solomon 
as  the  lover,  think  they  see  here  what  they  call  his 
conversion,  that  is  to  say,  his  turning  away  from 
polygamy  to  monogamy.  History  knows  of  no  such 
conversion  ;  and  it  is  hardly  likely  that  a  poet  of  the 
northern  kingdom  would  go  out  of  his  way  to  white- 
wash the  matrimonial  reputation  of  a  sovereign  from 
whom  the  house  of  Judah  was  descended.  Besides, 
the  occurrence  here  represented  bears  a  very  dubious 
character  when  we  consider  that  all  the  existing 
denizens  of  the  harem  were  to  be  put  aside  in  favour 
of  a  new  beauty.  It  would  have  been  more  like  a 
genuine  conversion  if  Solomon  had  gone  back  to  the 
love  of  his  youth,  and  confined  his  affections  to  his 
neglected  first  wife. 

On  the  shepherd  hypothesis  it  is  most  natural  to 
attribute  the  passage  to  the  shepherd  himself.  But 
since  it  is  difficult  to  imagine  him  present  at  this  scene 
between  Solomon  and  the  Shulammite,  it  seems  that  we 
must  fall  back  on  the  idealising  character  of  the  poem. 

'  vi.  8,  9. 


34  THE  SONG   OF  SOLOMON 

In  this  figurative  way  the  true  lover  expresses  his  con- 
tempt for  the  monstrous  harem  at  the  palace.  He  is 
content  with  his  one  ewe  lamb  ;  nay,  she  is  more  to  him 
than  all  Solomon's  bevy  of  beauties  ;  even  these  ladies 
of  the  court  are  now  constrained  to  praise  the  noble 
qualities  of  his  bride. 

Solomon's  expression  of  awe  for  the  terrible  purity 
and  constancy  of  the  Shulammite  is  repeated/  and  then 
she  tells  the  story  of  her  capture.^  She  had  gone 
down  to  the  nut  garden  to  look  at  the  fresh  green  on 
the  plants,  and  to  see  whether  the  vines  were  budding 
and  the  pomegranates  putting  forth  their  lovely  scarlet 
blossoms,  when  suddenly,  and  all  unawares,  she  was 
pounced  upon  by  the  king's  people  and  whisked  away 
in  one  of  his  chariots.  It  is  a  vivid  scene,  and,  like 
other  scenes  in  this  poem,  the  background  of  it  is  the 
lovely  aspect  of  nature  in  early  spring. 

The  Shulammite  now  seems  to  be  attempting  a  retreat, 
and  the  ladies  of  the  court  bid  her  return  ;  they  would 
see  the  performance  of,  a  favourite  dance,  known  as 
"  The  Dance  of  Mahanaim."  ^  Thereupon  we  have  a 
description  of  the  performer,  as  she  was  seen  during 
the  convolutions  of  the  dance,  dressed  in  a  transparent 
garment  of  red  gauze, — perhaps  such  as  is  represented 
in  Pompeian  frescoes, — so  that  her  person  could  be  com- 
pared to  pale  wheat  surrounded  by  crimson  anemones.* 
It  is  quite  against  the  tenor  of  her  conduct  to  suppose 
that  the  modest  country  girl  would  degrade  herself  by 
ministering  to  the  amusement  of  a  corrupt  court  in  this 
shameless  manner.     It  is  more  reasonable  to  conclude 

'  vi.  lo. 

^  Vers.  II,  12. 

8  vi.  13.     This  is  obscured  in  the  Authorised  Version. 

*  vii.  1-9. 


V.  i-viii.]  LOVE   UNQUENCHABLE  35 


that  the  entertainment  was  given  by  a  professional 
dancer  from  among  the  women  of  the  harem.  We 
have  a  hint  that  this  is  the  case  in  the  title  applied  to 
the  performer,  in  addressing  whom  Solomon  exclaims, 
"O  prince's  daughter,"^  an  expression  never  used  for 
the  poor  Shulammite,  and  one  from  which  we  should 
gather  that  she  was  a  captive  princess  who  had  been 
trained  as  a  court  dancer.  The  glimpse  of  the  manners 
of  the  palace  helps  to  strengthen  the  contrast  of  the 
innocent,  simple  country  life  in  which  the  Shulammite 
delights. 

It  has  been  suggested,  with  some  degree  of  proba- 
bility, that  the  Shulammite  is  supposed  to  make  her 
escape  while  the  attention  of  the  king  and  his  court 
is  diverted  by  this  entrancing  spectacle.  It  is  to  be 
observed,  at  all  events,  that  from  this  point  onwards 
to  the  end  of  the  poem,  neither  Solomon  nor  the 
daughters  of  Jerusalem  take  any  part  in  the  dialogue, 
while  the  scene  appears  to  be  shifted  to  the  Shulam- 
mite's  home  in  the  country,  where  she  and  the  shepherd 
are  now  seen  together  in  happy  companionship.  The 
bridegroom  has  come  to  fetch  his  bride.  Again  she 
owns  that  she  is  his,  and  delights  in  the  glad  thought 
that  his  heart  goes  out  to  her.^  She  bids  him  come 
with  her  into  the  field,  and  lodge  in  the  villages.  They 
will  get  them  early  into  the  vineyards  and  see  whether 
the  vines  are  blooming,  and  whether  the  pomegranates 
are  in  blossom.^  It  is  still  early  spring.  It  was  early 
spring  when  she  was  snatched  away.  Unless  she  had 
been  a  whole  year  at  the  palace, — an  impossible  situation 
with  the  king  continuing  his  ineffectual  courtship  for 
so  long  a  time, — we  have  no  movement  of  time.     But 


36  THE  SONG   OF  SOLOMON 

the  series  of  events  from  the  day  when  the  Shulammite 
was  seized  in  her  nut  garden,  till  she  found  herself 
back  again  in  her  home  in  the  north  country,  after  the 
trying  episode  of  her  temporary  residence  in  the  royal 
palace,  must  have  occupied  some  weeks.  And  yet  the 
conclusion  of  the  story  is  set  in  precisely  the  same 
stage  of  spring,  the  time  when  people  look  for  the  first 
buds  and  blossoms,  as  the  opening  scenes.  It  has 
been  proposed  to  confine  the  whole  action  to  the 
northern  district,  where  Solomon  might  have  had  a 
country  house  adjoining  his  vineyard.^  The  presence 
of  the  "daughters  of  Jerusalem,"  and  allusions  to  the 
streets  of  the  city,  its  watchmen,  and  the  guard  upon 
the  walls,  are  against  this  notion.  It  is  better  to 
conclude  that  we  have  here  another  instance  of  the 
idealism  of  the  poem.  Since  early  spring  is  the  season 
that  harmonises  most  perfectly  with  the  spirit  of  the 
whole  work,  the  author  does  not  trouble  himself  with 
adapting  its  scenes  in  a  realistic  manner  to  the  rapidly 
changing  aspects  of  nature. 

The  shepherd  has  addressed  the  Shulammite  as  his 
sister ;  ^  she  now  reciprocates  the  title  by  expressing 
her  longing  that  he  had  been  as  her  brother.^  This 
singular  mode  of  courtship  between  two  lovers  who 
are  so  passionately  devoted  to  one  another  that  we 
might  call  them  the  Hebrew  Romeo  and  Juliet,  is  not 
without  significance.  Its  recurrence,  now  on  the  lips 
of  the  bride,  helps  to  sharpen  still  more  the  contrast 
between  what  passes  for  love  in  the  royal  harem,  and 
the  true  emotion  experienced  by  a  pair  of  innocent 
young  people,  unsullied  by  the  corruptions  of  the  court 
— illustrating,  as  it  does  at  once,  its  sweet  intimacy  and 
its  perfect  purity. 


V.  i-viii.]  LOVE   UNQUENCHABLE  37 

The  proud  bride  would  now  lead  her  swain  to  her 
mother's  house.-'  There  is  no  mention  of  her  father ; 
apparently  he  is  not  living.  But  the  fond  way  in 
which  this  simple  girl  speaks  of  her  mother  reveals 
another  lovely  trait  in  her  character.  She  has  witnessed 
the  wearisome  magnificence  of  Solomon's  palace.  It 
was  impossible  to  associate  the  idea  of  home  with  such 
a  place.  We  never  hear  the  daughters  of  Jerusalem, 
those  poor  degraded  women  of  the  harem,  speaking  of 
their  mothers.  But  to  the  Shulammite  no  spot  on 
earth  is  so  dear  as  her  mother's  cottage.  There  her 
lover  shall  have  spiced  wine  and  pomegranate  juice — 
simple  home-made  country  beverages.^  Repeating  one 
of  the  early  refrains  of  the  poem,  the  happy  bride  is 
not  afraid  to  say  that  there  too  her  husband  shall 
support  her  in  his  strong  embrace,^  She  then  repeats 
another  refrain,  and  for  the  last  time — surely  one  would 
say  now,  quite  superfluously — she  adjures  the  daughters 
of  Jerusalem  not  to  awaken  any  love  for  Solomon  in 
her,  but  to  leave  love  to  its  spontaneous  course.* 

Now  the  bridegroom  is  seen  coming  up  from  the 
wilderness  with  his  bride  leaning  upon  him,  and  telling 
how  he  first  made  love  to  her  when  he  found  her  asleep 
under  an  apple  tree  in  the  garden  of  the  cottage  where 
she  was  born.''  As  they  converse  together  we  reach 
the  richest  gem  of  the  poem,  the  Shulammite's  impas- 
sioned eulogy  of  love.^  She  bids  her  husband  set  her 
as  a  seal  upon  his  heart  in  the  inner  sanctuary  of  his 
being,  and  as  a  seal  upon  his  arm — always  owning  her, 
always  true  to  her  in  the  outer  world.  She  is  to  be  his 
closely,  his  openly,  his  for  ever.      She  has  proved  her 


'  vui.  2.  ^  viii.  3.  ■'  viii.  5. 

-  viii.  2.  '  viii.  4.  °  viii.  6,  7. 


38  THE  SONG  OF  SOLOMON 


constancy  to  him ;  now  she  claims  his  constancy  to 
her.  The  foundation  of  this  claim  rests  on  the  very 
nature  of  love.  The  one  essential  characteristic  here 
dwelt  upon  is  strength — "  Love  is  strong  as  death." 
Who  can  resist  grim  death  ?  who  escape  its  iron 
clutches  ?  Who  can  resist  mighty  love,  or  evade  its 
power?  The  illustration  is  startling  in  the  apparent 
incompatibility  of  the  two  things  drawn  together  for 
comparison.  But  it  is  a  stern  and  terrible  aspect  of 
love  to  which  our  attention  is  now  directed.  This  is 
apparent  as  the  Shulammite  proceeds  to  speak  of 
jealousy  which  is  "  hard  as  the  grave."  If  love  is 
treated  falsely,  it  can  flash  out  in  a  flame  of  wrath  ten 
times  more  furious  than  the  raging  of  hatred — "  a 
most  vehement  flame  of  the  Lord."  This  is  the  only 
place  in  which  the  name  of  God  appears  throughout 
the  whole  poem.  It  may  be  said  that  even  here  it 
only  comes  in  according  to  a  familiar  Hebrew  idiom, 
as  metaphor  for  what  is  very  great.  But  the  Shulam- 
mite has  good  reason  for  claiming  God  to  be  on  her 
side  in  the  protection  of  her  love  from  cruel  wrong  and 
outrage.  Love  as  she  knows  it  is  both  unquenchable 
and  unpurchasable.  She  has  tested  and  proved  these 
two  attributes  in  her  own  experience.  At  the  court 
of  Solomon  every  effort  was  made  to  destroy  her  love 
for  the  shepherd,  and  all  possible  means  were  employed 
for  buying  her  love  for  the  king.  Both  utterly  failed. 
All  the  floods  of  scorn  which  the  harem  ladies  poured 
over  her  love  for  the  country  lad  could  not  quench  it ; 
all  the  wealth  of  a  kingdom  could  not  buy  it  for  Solomon. 
Where  true  love  exists,  no  opposition  can  destroy  it ; 
Vv^here  it  is  not,  no  money  can  purchase  it.  As  for 
the  second  idea— the  purchasing  of  love — the  Shulam- 
mite flings  it  away  with  the  utmost   contempt.     Yet 


-viii.]  LOVE   UNQUENCHABLE  39 


this  was  the  too  common  means  employed  by  a  king 
such  as  Solomon  for  replenishing  the  stock  of  his  harem. 
Then  the  monarch  was  only  pursuing  a  shadow;  he 
was  but  playing  at  love-making;  he  was  absolutely 
ignorant  of  the  reality. 

The  vigour,  one  might  say  the  rigour,  of  this  passage 
distinguishes  it  from  nearly  all  other  poetry  devoted 
to  the  praises  of  love.  That  poetry  is  usually  soft  and 
tender  ;  sometimes  it  is  feeble  and  sugary.  And  yet 
it  must  be  remembered  that  even  the  classical  Aphrodite 
could  be  terribly  angry.  There  is  nothing  morbid  or 
sentimental  in  the  Shulammite's  ideas.  She  has  dis- 
covered and  proved  by  experience  that  love  is  a  mighty 
force,  capable  of  heroic  endurance,  and  able,  when 
wronged,  to  avenge  itself  with  serious  effect. 

Towards  the  conclusion  of  the  poem  fresh  speakers 
appear  in  the  persons  of  the  Shulammite's  brothers, 
who  defend  themselves  from  the  charge  of  negligence 
in  having  permitted  their  little  sister  to  be  snatched 
away  from  their  keeping,  explaining  how  they  have 
done  their  best  to  guard  her.  Or  perhaps  they  mean 
that  they  will  be  more  careful  in  protecting  a  younger 
sister.  They  will  build  battlements  about  her.  The 
Shulammite  takes  up  the  metaphor.  She  is  safe  now, 
as  a  wall  well  embattled ;  at  last  she  has  found  peace 
in  the  love  of  her  husband.  Solomon  may  have 
a  vineyard  in  her  neighbourhood,  and  draw  great- 
wealth  from  it  with  which  to  buy  the  wares  in  which 
he  delights.^  It  is  nothing  to  her.  She  has  her  own 
vineyard.  This  reference  to  the  Shulammite's  vineyard 
recalls  the  mention  of  it  at  the  beginning  of  the  poem, 
and    suggests  the  idea  that  in   both    cases  the  image 


THE  SONG   OF  SOLOMON 


represents  the  shepherd  lover.  In  the  first  instance 
she  had  not  kept  her  vineyard/  for  she  had  lost  her 
lover.  Now  she  has  him,  and  she  is  satisfied.^  He 
calls  to  her  in  the  garden,  longing  to  hear  her  voice 
there,^  and  she  replies,  bidding  him  hasten  and  come 
to  her  as  she  has  described  him  coming  before, — 


Like  to  a  roe  or  a  young  hart 
Upon  the  mountains  of  spices."' 


And  so  the  poem  sinks  to  rest  in  the  happy  picture 
of  the  union  of  the  two  young  lovers. 


i.  6. 


CHAPTER   IV 

MYSTICAL  INTERPRETATIONS 

THUS  far  we  have  been  considering  the  bare,  literal 
sense  of  the  text.  It  cannot  be  denied  that, 
if  only  to  lead  up  to  the  metaphorical  significance  of 
the  words  employed,  those  words  must  be  approached 
through  their  primary  physical  meanings.  This  is 
essential  even  to  the  understanding  of  pure  allegory 
such  as  that  of  The  Faerie  Queen  and  The  Pilgrim's 
Progress ;  we  must  understand  the  adventures  of  the 
Red  Cross  Knight  and  the  course  of  Christian's  journey 
before  we  can  learn  the  moral  of  Spenser's  and  Bunyan's 
elaborate  allegories.  Similarly  it  is  absolutely  necessary 
for  us  to  have  some  idea  of  the  movement  of  the  Song 
of  Solomon  as  a  piece  of  literature,  in  its  external  form, 
even  if  we  are  persuaded  that  beneath  this  sensuous 
exterior  it  contains  the  most  profound  ideas,  before  we 
can  discover  any  such  ideas.  In  other  words,  if  it  is  to 
be  considered  as  a  mass  of  symbolism  the  symbols  must 
be  understood  in  themselves  before  their  significance 
can  be  drawn  out  of  them. 

But  now  we  are  confronted  with  the  question 
whether  the  book  has  any  other  meaning  than  that 
which  meets  the  eye.  The  answers  to  this  question 
are  given  on  three  distinct  lines : — First,  we  have  the 
allegorical  schemes  of  interpretation,  according  to  which 
the  poem  is  not  to  be  taken  literally  at  all,  but  is  to 
41 


42  THE  SONG   OF  SOLOMON 

be  regarded  as  a  purely  metaphorical  representation 
of  national  or  Church  history,  philosophical  ideas,  or 
spiritual  experiences.  In  the  second  place,  we  meet 
with  various  forms  of  double  interpretation,  described 
as  typical  or  mystical,  in  which  a  primary  meaning  is 
allowed  to  the  book  as  a  sort  of  drama  or  idyl,  or  as 
a  collection  of  Jewish  love-songs,  while  a  secondary 
signification  of  an  ideal  or  spiritual  character  is  added. 
Distinct  as  these  lines  of  interpretation  are  in  themselves, 
they  tend  to  blend  in  practice,  because  even  when  two 
meanings  are  admitted  the  symbolical  signification  is 
considered  to  be  of  so  much  greater  importance  than 
the  literal  that  it  virtuall}^  occupies  the  whole  field.  In 
the  third  place  there  is  the  purely  literal  interpretation, 
that  which  denies  the  existence  of  any  symbolical  or 
mystical  intention  in  the  poem. 

Allegorical  interpretations  of  the  Song  of  Solomon 
are  found  among  the  Jews  early  in  the  Christian  era. 
The  Aramaic  Targum,  probably  originating  about  the 
sixth  century  a.d.,  takes  the  first  half  of  the  poem  as 
a  symbolical  picture  of  the  history  of  Israel  previous  to 
the  captivity,  and  the  second  as  a  prophetic  picture  of 
the  subsequent  fortunes  of  the  nation.  The  recurrence 
of  the  expression  "  the  congregation  of  Israel  "  in  this 
paraphrase  wherever  the  Shulammite  appears,  and  other 
similar  adaptations,  entirely  destroy  the  fine  poetic 
flavour  of  the  work,  and  convert  it  into  a  dreary,  dry- 
as-dust  composition. 

Symbolical  interpretations  were  very  popular  among 
Christian  Fathers — though  not  with  universal  approval, 
as  the  protest  of  Theodore  of  Mopsuestia  testifies. 
The  great  Alexandrian  Origen  is  the  founder  and 
patron  of  this  method  of  interpreting  the  Song  of 
Solomon  in  the  Church.     Jerome  was  of  opinion  that 


MYSTICAL  INTERPRETATIONS  43 

Origen  "surpassed  himself"  in  his  commentary  on 
the  poem — a  commentary  to  v/hich  he  devoted  ten 
volumes.  According  to  his  view,  it  was  originally 
an  epithalamium  celebrating  the  marriage  of  Solomon 
with  Pharaoh's  daughter  ;  but  it  has  secondary  mystical 
meanings  descriptive  of  the  relation  of  the  Redeemer 
to  the  Church  or  the  individual  soul.  Thus  "  the  little 
foxes  that  spoil  the  grapes  "  are  evil  thoughts  in  the 
individual,  or  heretics  in  the  Church.  Gregory  the 
Great  contributes  a  commentary  of  no  lasting  interest. 
Very  different  is  the  work  of  the  great  mediaeval  monk 
St.  Bernard  of  Clairvaux,  who  threw  himself  into  it 
with  all  the  passion  and  rapture  of  his  enthusiastic  soul, 
and  in  the  course  of  eighty-six  homilies  only  reached 
the  beginning  of  the  third  chapter  in  this  to  him  in- 
exhaustible mine  of  spiritual  wealth,  when  he  died, 
handing  on  the  task  to  his  faithful  disciple  Gilbert  Porre- 
tanus,  who  continued  it  on  the  same  portentous  scale, 
and  also  died  before  he  had  finished  the  fifth  chapter. 
Even  while  reading  the  old  monkish  Latin  in  this  late 
age  we  cannot  fail  to  feel  the  glowing  devotion  that 
inspires  it.  Bernard  is  addressing  his  monks,  to  whom 
he  says  he  need  not  give  the  milk  for  babes,  and  whom 
he  exhorts  to  prepare  their  throats  not  for  this  milk 
but  for  bread.  As  a  schoolman  he  cannot  escape  from 
metaphysical  subtleties — he  takes  the  kiss  of  the  bride- 
groom as  a  symbol  of  the  incarnation.  But  throughout 
there  burns  the  perfect  rapture  of  love  to  Jesus  Christ 
which  inspires  his  well-known  hymns.  Here  we  are 
at  the  secret  of  the  extraordinary  popularity  of  mystical 
interpretations  of  the  Song  of  Solomon.  It  has  seemed 
to  many  in  all  ages  of  the  Christian  Church  to  afford 
the  best  expression  for  the  deepest  spiritual  relations 
of  Christ  and  His  people.      Nevertheless,  the  mystical 


THE  SONG   OF  SOLOMON 


method  has  been  widely  disputed  since  the  time  of 
the  Reformation.  Luther  complains  of  the  "many 
wild  and  monstrous  interpretations  "  that  are  attached 
to  the  Song  of  Solomon,  though  even  he  understands 
it  as  symbolical  of  Solomon  and  his  state.  Still,  not  a 
few  of  the  most  popular  hymns  of  our  own  day  are 
saturated  with  ideas  and  phrases  gathered  from  this 
book,  and  fresh  expositions  of  what  are  considered  to 
be  its  spiritual  lessons  may  still  be  met  with. 

It  is  not  easy  to  discover  any  justification  for  the 
rabbinical  explanation  of  the  Song  of  Solomon  as  a 
representation  of  successive  events  in  the  history  of 
Israel,  an  explanation  which  Jewish  scholars  have 
abandoned  in  favour  of  simple  literalism.  But  the 
mystical  view,  according  to  which  the  poem  sets  forth 
spiritual  ideas,  has  pleas  urged  in  its  favour  that 
demand  some  consideration.  We  are  reminded  of  the 
analogy  of  Oriental  literature,  which  delights  in  parable 
to  an  extent  unknown  in  the  West,  Works  of  a  kindred 
nature  are  produced  in  which  an  allegorical  signification 
is  plainly  intended.  Thus  the  Hindoo  Gitagovinda 
celebrates  the  loves  of  Chrishna  and  Radha  in  verses 
that  bear  a  remarkable  resemblance  to  the  Song  of 
Solomon.  Arabian  poets  sing  of  the  love  of  Joseph 
for  Zuleikha,  which  mystics  take  as  the  love  of  God 
towards  the  soul  that  longs  for  union  with  Him.  There 
is  a  Turkish  mystical  commentary  on  the  Song  of  Hafiz. 

The  Bible  itself  furnishes  us  with  suggestive  analogies. 
Throughout  the  Old  Testament  the  idea  of  a  marriage 
union  between  God  and  His  people  occurs  repeatedly, 
and  the  most  frequent  metaphor  for  religious  apostasy 
is  drawn  from  the  crime  of  adultery.^     This  symbolism 

'  £'.^.  Exod.  xxxiv.  15,  16;  Numb.  xv.  39;  Psalm  Ixxiii.  27; 
Ezek.  xvi.  2^,  etc. 


MYSTICAL  INTERPRETATIONS  45 

is  especially  prominent  in  the  writings  of  Jeremiah^ 
and  Hosea.^  The  forty-fifth  psalm  is  an  epithalamium 
commonly  read  with  a  Messianic  signification.  John 
the  Baptist  describes  the  coming  Messiah  as  the 
Bridegroom,^  and  Jesus  Christ  accepts  the  title  for 
Himself''  Our  Lord  illustrates  the  blessedness  of  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven  in  a  parable  of  a  wedding  feast.^ 
With  St.  Paul  the  union  of  husband  and  wife  is  an 
earthly  copy  of  the  union  of  Christ  and  His  Church. 
The  marriage  of  the  Lamb  is  a  prominent  feature  in 
the  Book  of  the  Revelation.'^ 

Further,  it  may  be  maintained  that  the  experience 
of  Christians  has  demonstrated  the  aptness  of  the 
expression  of  the  deepest  spiritual  truths  in  the  imagery 
of  the  Song  of  Solomon.  Sad  hearts  disappointed  in 
their  earthly  hopes  have  found  in  the  religious  reading 
of  this  poem  as  a  picture  of  their  relation  to  their 
Saviour  the  satisfaction  for  which  they  have  hungered, 
and  which  the  world  could  never  give  them.  Devout 
Christians  have  read  in  it  the  very  echo  of  their  own 
emotions.  Samuel  Rutherford's  Letters^  for  example, 
are  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  religious  interpretation 
of  the  Song  of  Solomon ;  and  these  letters  stand  in  the 
first  rank  of  devotional  works.  There  is  certainly  some 
force  in  the  argument  that  a  key  which  seems  to  fit  the 
lock  so  well  must  have  been  designed  to  do  so. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  objections  to  a  mystical, 
religious  interpretation  are  very  strong.  In  the  first 
place,  we  can  quite  account  for  its  appearance  apart 
from  any  justification  of  it  in  the  original  intention  of 


'  E.g.  Jer.  iii.  i-ii.  ''  Mark.  ii.  19.  "^  Eph.  v.  22-33. 

2  Hosea  ii.  2  ;  iii.  3.  ^  Matt.  xxii.  1-14.         '  Rev.  xxi.  9. 

^  John  iii,  29. 


46  THE  SONG   OF  SOLOMON 


the  author.  Allegory  was  in  the  air  at  the  time  when, 
as  far  as  we  know,  secondary  meanings  were  first 
attached  to  the  ideas  of  the  Song  of  Solomon.  They 
sprang  from  Alexandria,  the  home  of  allegory,  Origen, 
who  was  the  first  Christian  writer  to  work  out  a 
mystical  explanation  of  this  book,  treated  other  books 
of  the  Old  Testament  in  exactly  the  same  way  ;  but 
we  never  dream  of  following  him  in  his  fantastical 
interpretations  of  those  works.  There  is  no  indication 
that  the  poem  was  understood  allegorically  or  mysti- 
cally as  early  as  the  first  century  of  the  Christian  era. 
Philo  is  the  prince  of  allegorists ;  but  while  he  explains 
the  narratives  of  the  Pentateuch  according  to  his 
favourite  method,  he  never  applies  that  method  to  this 
very  tempting  book,  and  never  even  mentions  the  work 
or  makes  any  reference  to  its  contents.  The  Song  of 
Solomon  is  not  once  mentioned  or  even  alluded  to  in 
the  slightest  way  by  any  writer  of  the  New  Testament. 
Since  it  is  never  noticed  by  Christ  or  the  Apostles,  of 
course  we  cannot  appeal  to  their  authority  for  reading 
it  mystically ;  and  yet  it  was  undoubtedly  known  to 
them  as  one  of  the  books  in  the  canon  of  the  sacred 
Scriptures  to  which  they  were  in  the  habit  of  appealing 
repeatedly.  Consider  the  grave  significance  of  this 
fact.  All  secondary  interpretations  of  which  we  knov/ 
anything,  and,  as  far  as  we  can  tell,  all  that  ever 
existed,  had  their  origin  in  post-apostolic  times.  If  we 
would  justify  this  method  by  authority  it  is  to  the 
Fathers  that  we  must  go,  not  to  Christ  and  His  apostles, 
not  to  the  sacred  Scriptures.  It  is  a  noteworthy  fact, 
too,  that  the  word  Eros,  the  Greek  name  for  the  love 
of  man  and  woman,  as  distinguished  from  Agape,  which 
stands  for  love  in  the  widest  sense  of  the  word,  is  first 
applied  to  our  Lord  by  Ignatius.     Here  we  have  the 


MYSTICAL  INTERPRETATIONS  47 

faint  beginning  of  the  stream  of  erotic  religious  fancies 
which  sometimes  manifests  itself  most  objectionably  in 
subsequent  Church  history.  There  is  not  a  trace  of  it 
in  the  New  Testament. 

If  the  choice  spiritual  ideas  which  some  people  think 
they  see  in  the  Song  of  Solomon  are  not  imported  by 
the  reader,  but  form  part  of  the  genuine  contents  of  the 
book,  how  comes  it  that  this  fact  was  not  recognised 
by  one  of  the  inspired  writers  of  the  New  Testament  ? 
or,  if  privately  recognised,  that  it  was  never  utilised  ? 
In  the  hands  of  the  mystical  interpreter  this  work  is 
about  the  most  valuable  part  of  the  Old  Testament. 
He  finds  it  to  be  an  inexhaustible  mine  of  the  most 
precious  treasures.  Why,  then,  was  such  a  remunera- 
tive lode  never  worked  by  the  first  authorities  in  Chris- 
tian teaching  ?  It  may  be  replied  that  we  cannot  prove 
much  from  a  bare  negative.  The  apostles  may  have 
had  their  own  perfectly  sufficient  reasons  for  leaving  to 
the  Church  of  later  ages  the  discovery  of  this  valuable 
spiritual  store.  Possibly  the  converts  of  their  day 
were  not  ripe  for  the  comprehension  of  the  mysteries 
here  expounded.  Be  that  as  it  may,  clearly  the  onus 
probandi  rests  with  those  people  of  a  later  age  who 
introduce  a  method  of  interpretation  for  which  no 
sanction  can  be  found  in  Scripture. 

Now  the  analogies  that  have  been  referred  to  are 
not  sufiicient  to  establish  any  proof  In  the  case  of 
the  other  poems  mentioned  above  there  are  distinct 
indications  of  symbolical  intentions.  Thus  in  the 
Gitagovinda  the  hero  is  a  divinity  whose  incarnations 
are  acknowledged  in  Hindoo  mythology ;  and  the  con- 
cluding verse  of  that  poem  points  the  moral  by  a 
direct  assertion  of  the  religious  meaning  of  the  whole 
composition.     This  is  not  the  case  with  the  Song  of 


THE  SONG   OF  SOLOMON 


Solomon.  We  must  not  be  misled  by  the  chapter- 
headings  in  our  English  Bibles,  which  of  course  are 
not  to  be  found  in  the  original  Hebrew  text.  From 
the  first  line  to  the  last  there  is  not  the  slightest  hint 
in  the  poem  itself  that  it  was  intended  to  be  read  in 
any  mystical  sense.  This  is  contrary  to  the  analogy 
of  all  allegories.  The  parable  may  be  difficult  to 
interpret,  but  at  all  events  it  must  suggest  that  it  is 
a  parable;  otherwise  it  defeats  its  own  object.  If  the 
writer  never  drops  any  hint  that  he  has  wrapped  up 
spiritual  ideas  in  the  sensuous  imagery  of  his  poetry, 
what  right  has  he  to  expect  that  anybody  will  find 
them  there,  so  long  as  his  poem  admits  of  a  perfectly 
adequate  explanation  in  a  literal  sense  ?  We  need  not 
be  so  dense  as  to  require  the  allegorist  to  say  to  us  in 
so  many  words  :  "  This  is  a  parable."  But  we  may 
justly  expect  him  to  furnish  us  with  some  hint  that  his 
utterance  is  of  such  a  character.  ^Esop's  fables  carry 
their  lessons  on  the  surface  of  them,  so  that  we  can 
often  anticipate  the  concluding  morals  that  are  attached 
to  them.  When  Tennyson  announced  that  the  Idy/s  of 
the  Kmg  constituted  an  allegory  most  people  were  taken 
by  surprise  ;  and  yet  the  analogy  of  The  Faerie  Queen,- 
and  the  lofty  ethical  ideas  with  which  the  poems  are 
inspired,  might  have  prepared  us  for  the  revelation. 
But  we  have  no  sirpilar  indications  in  the  case  of  the 
Song  of  Solomon.  If  somebody  were  to  propound  a 
new  theory  of  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield,  which  should 
turn  that  exquisite  tale  into  a  parable  of  the  Fall, 
it  would  not  be  ^nough  for  him  to  exercise  his  in- 
genuity in  pointii%  out  resemblances  between  the 
eighteenth-century  romance  and  the  ancient  narrative 
of  the  serpent's  doings  in  the  Garden  of  Eden.  Since 
he  could  not  shevv  that  Goldsmith   had  the  slightest 


MYSTICAL  INTERPRETATIONS  49 


intention  of  teaching  anything  of  the  kind,  his  exploit 
could  be  regarded  as  nothing  but  a  piece  of  literary 
trifling. 

The  Biblical  analogies  already  cited,  in  which  the 
mari'iage  relation  between  God  or  Christ  and  the  Church 
or  the  soul  are  referred  to,  will  not  bear  the  strain  that 
is  put  upon  them  when  they  are  brought  forward  in 
order  to  justify  a  mystical  interpretation  of  the  Song 
of  Solomon.  At  best  they  simply  account  for  the 
emergence  of  this  view  of  the  book  at  a  later  time,  or 
indicate  that  such  a  notion  might  be  maintained  if  there 
were  good  reasons  for  adopting  it.  They  cannot  prove 
that  in  the  present  case  it  should  be  adopted.  Moreover, 
they  differ  from  it  on  two  important  points.  First, 
in  harmony  with  all  genuine  allegories  and  metaphors, 
they  carry  their  own  evidence  of  a  symbolical  meaning, 
which  as  we  have  seen  the  Song  of  Solomon  fails  to 
do.  Second,  they  are  not  elaborate  compositions  of  a 
dramatic  or  idyllic  character  in  which  the  passion  of 
love  is  vividly  illustrated.  Regarded-  in  its  entirety, 
the  Song  of  Solomon  is  quite  without  parallel  in 
Scripture.  It  may  be  replied  that  we  cannot  disprove 
the  allegorical  intention  of  the  book.  But  this  is  not 
the  question.  That  intention  requires  to  be  proved  ; 
and  until  it  is  proved,  or  at  least  until  some  very  good 
reasons  are  urged  for  adopting  it,  no  statement  of  bare 
possibilities  counts  for  anything. 

But  we  may  push  the  case  further.  There  is  a 
positive  improbability  of  the  highest  order  that  the 
spiritual  ideas  read  into  the  Song  of  Solomon  by  some 
of  its  Christian  admirers  should  have  been  originally 
there.  This  would  involve  the  most  tremendous 
anachronism  in  all  literature.  The  Song  of  Solomon 
is  dated  among  the  earlier  works  of  the  Old  Testament. 

4 


i;o  THE  SONG   OF  SOLOMON 


But  the  religious  ideas  now  associated  with  it  represent 
what  is  regarded  as  the  fruit  of  the  most  advanced 
saintliness  ever  attained  in  the  Christian  Church. 
Here  we  have  a  flat  contradiction  to  the  growth  of 
revelation  manifested  throughout  the  whole  course  of 
Scripture  history.  We  might  as  well  ascribe  the 
Sistine  Madonna  to  the  fresco-painters  of  the  cata- 
combs; or,  what  is  more  to  the  point,  our  Lord's 
discourse  with  His  disciples  at  the  paschal  meal  to 
Solomon  or  some  other  Jew  of  his  age. 

No  doubt  the  devoted  follower  of  the  mystical 
method  will  not  be  troubled  by  considerations  such  as 
these.  To  him  the  supposed  fitness  of  the  poem  to 
convey  his  religious  ideas  is  the  one  sufficient  proof 
of  an  original  design  that  it  should  serve  that  end. 
So  long  as  the  question  is  approached  in  this  way,  the 
absence  of  clear  evidence  only  delights  the  prejudiced 
commentator  with  the  opportunity  it  affords  for  the 
exercise  of  his  ingenuity.  To  a  certain  school  of 
readers  the  very  obscurity  of  a  book  is  its  fascination. 
The  less  obvious  a  meaning  is,  the  more  eagerly  do  they 
set  themselves  to  expound  and  defend  it.  We  could 
leave  them  to  what  might  be  considered  ,  a  very 
harmless  diversion  if  it  were  not  for  other  considera- 
tions. But  we  cannot  forget  that  it  is  just  this 
ingenious  way  of  interpreting  the  Bible  in  accordance 
with  preconceived  opinions  that  has  encouraged  the 
quotation  of  the  Sacred  Volume  in  favour  of  absolutely 
contradictory  propositions,  an  abuse  which  in  its  turn 
has  provoked  an  inevitable  reaction  leading  to  contempt 
for  the  Bible  as  an  obscure  book  which  speaks  with  no 
certain  voice. 

Still,  it  may  be  contended,  the  analogy  between  the 
words    of  this   poem    and    the    spiritual  experience  of 


MYSTICAL  INTERPRETATIONS 


Christians  is  in  itself  an  indication  of  intentional 
connection.  Swedenborg  has  shewn  that  there  are 
correspondences  between  the  natural  and  the  spiritual, 
and  this  truth  is  illustrated  by  the  metaphorical 
references  to  marriage  in  the  Bible  which  have  been 
adduced  for  comparison  with  the  Song  of  Solomon. 
But  their  very  existence  shows  that  analogies  between 
religious  experience  and  the  love  story  of  the  Shu- 
lammite  may  be  traced  out  by  the  reader  without  any 
design  on  the  part  of  the  author  to  present  them.  If 
they  are  natural  they  are  universal,  and  any  love  song 
will  serve  our  purpose.  On  this  principle,  if  the  Song 
of  Solomon  admits  of  mystical  adaptation,  so  do  Mrs. 
Browning's  Sonnets  from  the  Portuguese. 

We  have  no  alternative,  then,  but  to  conclude  that 
the  mystical  interpretation  of  this  work  is  based  on  a 
delusion.  Moreover,  it  must  be  added  that  the  delusion 
is  a  mischievous  one.  No  doubt  to  many  it  has  been 
as  meat  and  drink.  They  have  found  in  their  reading 
of  the  Song  of  Solomon  real  spiritual  refreshment,  or 
they  believe  they  have  found  it.  But  there  is  another 
side.  The  poem  has  been  used  to  minister  to  a  morbid, 
sentimental  type  of  religion.  More  than  any  other 
influence,  the  mystical  interpretation  of  this  book  has 
imported  an  effeminate  element  into  the  notion  of  the 
love  of  Christ,  not  one  trace  of  which  can  be  detected 
in  the  New  Testament.  The  Catholic  legend  of  the 
marriage  of  St.  Catherine  is  somewhat  redeemed  by 
the  high  ascetic  tone  that  pervades  it ;  and  yet  it  in- 
dicates a  decline  from  the  standpoint  of  the  apostles. 
Not  a  few  unquestionable  revelations  of  immorality  in 
convents  have  shed  a  ghastly  light  on  the  abuse  of 
erotic  religious  fervour.  Among  Protestants  it  cannot 
be    said    that    the    most   wholesome    hymns  are   those 


52  THE  SONG  OF  SOLOMON 

which  are  composed  on  the  model  of  the  Song  of 
Solomon.  In  some  cases  the  religious  use  of  this  book 
is  perfectly  nauseous,  indicating  nothing  less  than  a 
disease  of  religion.  When — as  sometimes  happens — 
frightful  excesses  of  sensuality  follow  close  on  seasons 
of  what  has  been  regarded  as  the  revival  of  religion, 
the  common  explanation  of  these  horrors  is  that  in 
some  mysterious  way  spiritual  emotion  lies  very  near 
to  sensual  appetite,  so  that  an  excitement  of  the  one 
tends  to  rouse  the  other.  A  more  revolting  hj^pothesis, 
or  one  more  insulting  to  religion,  cannot  be  imagined. 
The  truth  is,  the  two  regions  are  separate  as  the  poles. 
The  explanation  of  the  phenomena  of  their  apparent 
conjunction  is  to  be  found  in  quite  another  direction. 
It  is  that  their  victims  have  substituted  for  religion 
a  sensuous  excitement  which  is  as  little  religious  as  the 
elation  that  follows  indulgence  in  alcoholism.  There  is 
no  more  deadly  temptation  of  the  devil  than  that  which 
hoodwinks  deluded  fanatics  into  making  this  terrible 
mistake.  But  it  can  scarcely  be  denied  that  the  mys- 
tical reading  of  the  Song  of  Solomon  by  unspiritual 
persons,  or  even  by  any  persons  who  are  not  com- 
pletely fortified  against  the  danger,  may  tend  in  this 
fatal  direction. 


CHAPTER    V 

CANONICITY 

IT  is  scarcely  to  be  expected  that  the  view  of  the 
Song  of  Solomon  expounded  in  the  foregoing  pages 
will  meet  with  acceptance  from  every  reader.  A 
person  who  has  been  accustomed  to  resort  to  this 
book  in  search  of  the  deepest  spiritual  ideas  cannot 
but  regard  the  denial  of  their  presence  with  aversion. 
While,  however,  it  is  distressing  to  be  compelled  to  give 
pain  to  a  devout  soul,  it  may  be  necessary.  If  there 
is  weight  in  the  considerations  that  have  been  engaging 
our  attention,  we  cannot  shut  our  eyes  to  them  simply 
because  they  may  be  disappointing.  The  mystical  inter- 
preter will  be  shocked  at  what  he  takes  for  irreverence. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  he  should  be  on  his  guard 
against  falling  into  this  very  fault  from  the  opposite  side. 
Reverence  for  truth  is  a  primary  Christian  duty.  The 
iconoclast  is  certain  to  be  charged  with  irreverence  by 
the  devotee  of  the  popular  idol  which  he  feels  it  his 
duty  to  destroy ;  and  yet,  if  his  action  is  inspired  by 
loyalty  to  truth,  reverence  for  what  he  deems  highest 
and  best  may  be  its  mainspring. 

If  the  Song  of  Solomon  were  not  one  of  the  books 
of  the  Bible,  questions  such  as  these  would  never  arise. 
It  is  its  place  in  the  sacred  canon  that  induces  people  to 
resent  the  consequences  of  the  application  of  criticism 
to  it.  It  is  simply  owing  to  its  being  a  part  of  the 
53 


54  THE  SONG   OF  SOLOMON 


Bible  that  it  has  come  to  be  treated  mystically  at  all. 
Undoubtedly  this  is  why  it  was  allegorised  by  the  Jews. 
But,  then,  the  secondary  signification  thus  acquired 
reacted  upon  it,  and  served  as  a  sort  of  buoy  to  float 
it  over  the  rocks  of  awkward  questions.  The  result 
was  that  in  the  end  the  book  attained  to  an  exception- 
ally high  position  in  the  estimation  of  the  rabbis.  Thus 
the  great  Rabbi  Akiba  says  :  "  The  course  of  the  ages 
cannot  vie  with  the  day  on  which  the  Song  of  Songs 
was  given  to  Israel.  All  the  Kethubim  {i.e.,  the  Hagio- 
grapha)  are  holy,  but  the  Song  of  Songs  is  a  holy  of 
holies." 

Such  being  the  case,  it  is  manifest  that  the  rejection 
of  the  mystical  signification  of  its  contents  must  revive 
the  question  of  the  canonicity  of  the  book.  We  have 
not,  however,  to  deal  with  the  problem  of  its  original 
insertion  in  the  canon.  We  find  it  there.  Some  doubts 
as  to  its  right  to  the  place  it  holds  seem  to  have  been 
raised  among  the  Jews  during  the  first  century  of  the 
Christian  era ;  but  these  doubts  were  effectually  borne 
down.  As  far  as  we  know,  the  Song  of  Solomon  has 
always  been  a  portion  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  from 
the  obscure  time  when  the  collection  of  those  Scriptures 
was  completed.  It  stands  as  the  first-  of  the  five 
Megilloth,  or  sacred  rolls — the  others  being  Ruth, 
Lamentations,  Esther,  and  Ecclesiastes.  We  are  not 
now  engaged  in  the  difficult  task  of  constructing  a  new 
canon.  The  only  possibility  is  that  of  the  expulsion 
of  a  book  already  in  the  old  canon.  But  the  attempt 
to  disturb  in  any  way  such  a  volume  as  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, with  all  its  incomparable  associations,  is  not  one 
to  be  undertaken  lightly  or  without  adequate  reason. 

In  order  to  justify  this  radical  measure  it  would  not 
be  enough  to  shew  that  the  specific  religious  meanings 


CANONICITY  55 


that  some  have  attached  to  the  Song  of  Solomon  do 
not  really  belong  to  it.  If  it  is  said  that  the  secular 
tone  it  acquires  under  the  hands  of  criticism  shews  it 
to  be  unworthy  of  a  place  in  the  sacred  Scriptures, 
this  assertion  goes  upon  an  unwarrantable  assumption. 
We  have  no  reason  to  maintain  that  all  the  books  of 
the  Old  Testament  must  be  of  equal  value.  The  Book 
of  Esther  does  not  reach  a  very  high  level  of  moral  or 
religious  worth ;  the  pessimism  of  Ecclesiastes  is  not 
inspiring ;  even  the  Book  of  Proverbs  contains  maxims 
that  cannot  be  elevated  to  a  first  place  in  ethics.  If 
we  could  discover  no  distinctively  enlightening  or 
uplifting  influence  in  the  Song  of  Solomon,  this  would 
not  be  a  sufficient  reason  for  raising  a  cry  against  it ; 
because  if  it  were  simply  neutral  in  character,  like 
nitrogen  in  the  atmosphere,  it  would  do  no  harm,  and 
we  could  safely  let  it  be.  The  one  justification  for  a 
radical  treatment  of  the  question  would  be  the  discovery 
that  the  book  was  false  in  doctrine  or  deleterious  in 
character.  As  to  doctrine,  it  does  not  trench  on  that 
region  at  all.  It  would  be  as  incongruous  to  associate 
it  with  the  grave  charge  of  heresy  as  to  bring  a  similar 
accusation  against  the  Essays  of  Elia  or  Keats's  poetry. 
And  if  the  view  expressed  in  these  pages  is  at  all  correct, 
it  certainly  cannot  be  said  that  the  moral  tendency  of 
the  book  is  injurious ;  the  very  reverse  must  be 
affirmed. 

Since  there  is  no  reason  to  believe  that  the  Song 
of  Solomon  had  received  any  allegorical  interpretation 
before  the  commencement  of  the  Christian  -era,  we  must 
conclude  that  it  was  not  on  the  ground  of  some  such 
interpretation  that  it  was  originally  admitted  into  the 
Hebrew  collection  of  Scripture.  It  was  placed  in  the 
canon  before  it  was  allegorised.     It  v^^as  only  allegorised 


S6  THE  SONG   OF  SOLOMON 

because  it  had  been  placed  in  the  canon.  Then  why 
was  it  set  there  ?  The  natural  conclusion  to  arrive  at 
under  these  circumstances  is  that  the  scribes  who  ven- 
tured to  put  it  first  among  the  sacred  Megilloth  saw 
that  there  was  a  distinctive  value  in  it.  Perhaps,  how- 
ever, it  is  too  much  to  say  this  of  them.  The  word 
"  Solomon  "  being  attached  to  the  book  would  seem  to 
justify  its  inclusion  with  other  literature  which  had 
received  the  hall-mark  of  that  great  name.  Still  we 
can  learn  to  appreciate  it  on  its  own  merits,  and  in  so 
doing  perceive  that  there  is  something  in  it  to  justify 
its  right  to  a  niche  in  the  glorious  temple  of  scripture. 

Assuredly  it  was  much  to  make  clear  in  the  days  of 
royal  polygamy  among  the  Jews  that  this  gross  imitation 
of  the  court  life  of  heathen  monarchies  was  a  despicable 
and  degrading  thing,  and  to  set  over  against  it  an 
attractive  picture  of  true  love  and  simple  manners.  The 
prophets  of  Israel  were  continually  protesting  against  a 
growing  dissoluteness  of  morals  :  the  Song  of  Solomon 
is  a  vivid  illustration  ,of  the  spirit  of  their  protest. 
If  the  two  nations  had  been  content  with  the  rustic 
delights  so  beautifully  portrayed  in  this  book,  they 
might  not  have  fallen  into  ruin  as  they  did  under  the 
influence  of  the  corruptions  of  an  effete  civilisation.  If 
their  people  had  cherished  the  graces  of  purity  and 
constancy  that  shine  so  conspicuously  in  the  character 
of  the  Shulammite  they  might  not  have  needed  to  pass 
through  the  purging  fires  of  the  captivity. 

But  while  this  can  be  said  of  the  book  as  it  first 
appeared  among  the  Jews,  a  similar  estimate  of  its 
function  in  later  ages  may  also  be  made.  An  ideal 
representation  of  fidehty  in  love  under  the  greatest 
provocation  to  surrender  at  discretion  has  a  message  for 
every  age.     We  need  not  shrink  from   reading   it  in 


CANONICITY 


the  pages  of  the  Bible.  Our  Lord  teaches  us  that  next 
to  the  duty  of  love  to  God  comes  that  of  love  to  one's 
neighbour.  But  a  man's  nearest  neighbour  is  his  wife. 
Therefore  after  his  God  his  wife  has  the  first  claim 
upon  him.  But  the  whole  conception  of  matrimonial 
duty  rests  on  the  idea  of  constancy  in  the  love  of  man 
and  woman. 

If  this  book  had  been  read  in  its  literal  signification 
and  its  wholesome  lesson  absorbed  b}'  Christendom  in 
the  Middle  Ages,  the  gloomy  cloud  of  asceticism  that 
then  hung  over  the  Church  would  have  been  some- 
what lightened,  not  to  give  place  to  the  outburst  of 
licentiousness  that  accompanied  the  Renaissance ^  but 
rather  to  allow  of  the  better  establishment  of  the 
Christian  home.  The  absurd  legends  that  follow  the 
names  of  St.  Anthony  and  St.  Dunstan  would  have 
lost  their  motive.  Hildebrand  would  have  had  no 
occasion  to  hurl  his  thunderbolt.  The  Church  was 
making  the  huge  mistake  of  teaching  that  the  remedy 
for  dissoluteness  was  unnatural  cehbacy.  This  book 
taught  the  lesson — truer  to  nature,  truer  to  experience, 
truer  to  the  God  who  made  us — that  it  was  to  be  found 
in  the  redemption  of  love. 

Can  it  be  denied  that  the  same  lesson  is  needed  in 
our  own  day  ?  The  realism  that  has  made  itself  a 
master  of  a  large  part  of  popular  literature  reveals  a 
state  of  society  that  perpetuates  the  manners  of  the 
court  of  Solomon,  though  under  a  thin  veil  of  decorum. 
The  remedy  for  the  awful  dissoluteness  of  large  portions 
of  society  can  only  be  found  in  the  cultivation  of  such 
lofty  ideas  on  the  relation  of  the  sexes  that  this  abomi- 
nation shall  be  scouted  with  horror.  It  is  neither 
necessary,  nor  right,  nor  possible  to  contradict  nature. 
What  has  to  be  shewn  is  that  man's  true  nature  is  not 


58  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


bestial,  that  satyrs  and  fauns  are  not  men,  but  degraded 
caricatures  of  men.  We  cannot  crush  the  strongest 
passion  of  human  nature.  The  moral  of  the  Song  of 
Solomon  is  that  there  is  no  occasion  to  attempt  to  crush 
it,  because  the  right  thing  is  to  elevate  it  by  lofty  ideals 
of  love  and  constancy. 

This  subject  also  deserves  attention  on  its  positive 
side.  The  literature  of  all  ages  is  a  testimony  to  the 
fact  that  nothing  in  the  world  is  so  interesting  as  love. 
What  is  so  old  as  love-making  ?  and  what  so  fresh  ? 
At  least  ninety-nine  novels  out  of  a  hundred  have 
a  love-story  for  plot ;  and  the  hundredth  is  always 
regarded  as  an  eccentric  experiment.  The  pedant  may 
plant  his  heel  on  the  perennial  flower;  but  it  will  spring 
up  again  as  vigorous  as  ever.  This  is  the  poetry  of 
the  most  commonplace  existence.  When  it  visits  a 
dingy  soul  the  desert  blossoms  as  the  rose.  Life  may 
be  hard,  and  its  drudgery  a  grinding  yoke  ;  but  with 
love  "all  tasks  are  sweet."  "And  Jacob  served  seven 
years  for  Rachel ;  and  they  seemed  unto  him  but  a  few 
days,  for  the  love  he  had  to  her."  ^  That  experience  of 
the  patriarch  is  typical  of  the  magic  power  of  true  love 
in  every  age,  in  every  clime.  To  the  lover  it  is  always 
"the  time  of  the  singing  of  birds."  Who  shall  tell  the 
value  of  the  boon  that  God  has  given  so  freely  to 
mankind,  to  sweeten  the  lot  of  the  toiler  and  shed  music 
into  his  heart  ?  But  this  boon  requires  to  be  jealously 
guarded  and  sheltered  from  abuse,  or  its  honey  will  be 
turned  into  gall.  It  is  for  the  toiler— the  shepherd 
whose  locks  are  wet  with  the  dew  that  has  fallen  upon 
him  while  guarding  his  flock  by  night,  the  maiden  who 
has    been  working  in  the  vineyard  ;  it  is  beyond  the 


Gen.  xxix.  20. 


CANONICITY  59 


reach  of  the  pleasure-seeking  monarch  and  the  indolent 
ladies  of  his  court.  This  boon  is  for  the  pure  in  heart ; 
it  is  utterly  denied  to  the  sensual  and  dissolute.  Finally, 
it  is  reserved  for  the  loyal  and  true  as  the  peculiar 
reward  of  constancy. 

But  while  a  poem  that  contains  these  principles  must 
be  allowed  to  have  an  important  mission  in  the  world, 
it  does  not  follow  that  it  is  suitable  for  public  or  indis- 
criminate reading.  The  fact  that  the  key  to  it  is  not 
easily  discovered  is  a  warning  that  it  is  liable  to  be 
misunderstood.  When  it  is  read  superficially,  without 
any  comprehension  of  its  drift  and  motive,  it  may  be 
perverted  to  mischievous  ends.  The  antique  Oriental 
pictures  with  which  it  abounds,  though  natural  to  the 
circumstances  of  its  origin,  are  not  in  harmony  with  the 
more  reserved  manners  of  our  own  conditions  of  society. 
As  all  the  books  of  the  Bible  are  not  of  the  same 
character,  so  also  they  are  not  all  to  be  used  in  the 
same  way. 


THE    LAMENTATIONS    OF  JEREMIAH 


CHAPTER    I 

HEBREW   ELEGIES 

THE  book  which  is  known  by  the  title  "The 
Lamentations  of  Jeremiah  "  is  a  collection  of  five 
separate  poems,  very  similar  in  style,  and  all  treating 
of  the  same  subject — the  desolation  of  Jerusalem  and 
the  sufferings  of  the  Jews  after  the  overthrow  of  their 
city  by  Nebuchadnezzar.  In  our  English  Bible  it  is 
placed  among  the  prophetical  works  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, standing  next  to  the  acknowledged  writings  of 
the  man  whose  name  it  bears.  This  arrangement 
follows  the  order  in  the  Septuagint,  from  which  it  was 
accepted  by  Josephus  and  the  Christian  Fathers.  And 
yet  the  natural  place  for  such  a  book  would  seem  to  be 
in  association  with  the  Psalms  and  other  poetical  com- 
positions of  a  kindred  character.  So  thought  the 
Rabbis  who  compiled  the  Jewish  canon.  In  the 
Hebrew  Bible  the  Book  of  Lamentations  is  assigned 
to  the  third  collection,  that  designated  Hagiographa, 
not  to  the  part  known  as  the  Prophets. 

In  form  as  well  as  in  substance  this  book  is  a 
remarkable  specimen  of  a  specific  order  of  poetry.  The 
difficulty  of  recovering  the  original  pronunciation  of 
the  language  has  left  our  conception  of  Hebrew  metres 
in  a  state  of  obscurity.  It  has  been  generally  supposed 
that  the  rhythm  was  more  of  sight  than  of  sound,  but 
that  it  consisted  essentially  in  neither,  depending  mainly 


64  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

on  the  balance  of  ideas.  The  metre,  it  has  been  stated, 
might  strike  the  eye  in  the  external  aspect  of  the 
sentences ;  it  was  designed  much  more  to  charm  the 
mind  by  the  harmony  and  music  of  the  thoughts.  But 
while  these  general  principles  are  still  acknowledged, 
some  further  progress  has  been  made  in  the  examina- 
tion of  the  structure  of  the  verses,  with  the  result  that 
both  more  regularity  of  law  and  more  variety  of  metre 
have  been  discovered.  The  elegy  in  particular  is  found 
to  be  shaped  on  special  lines  of  its  own.  It  has  been 
pointed  out  that  a  peculiar  metre  is  reserved  for  poems 
of  mournful  reflection. 

The  first  feature  of  this  metre  to  be  noted  is  the 
unusual  length  of  the  hne.  In  Hebrew  poetry,  accord- 
ing to  the  generally  accepted  pronunciation,  the  lines 
vary  from  about  six  syllables  to  about  twelve.  In  the 
elegy  the  line  most  frequently  runs  to  the  extreme 
limit,  and  so  acquires  a  slow,  solemn  movement. 

A  second  feature  of  elegiac  poetry  is  the  breaking  of 
the  lengthy  line  into  two  unequal  parts — the  first  part 
being  about  as  long  as  a  whole  line  in  an  average 
Hebrew  lyric,  and  the  second  much  shorter,  reading 
like  another  line  abbreviated,  and  seeming  to  suggest 
that  the  weary  thought  is  waking  up  and  hurrying  to 
its  conclusion.  Sometimes  this  short  section  is  a  thin 
echo  of  the  fuller  conception  that  precedes,  sometimes 
the  completion  of  that  conception.  In  the  English 
version,  of  course,  the  effect  is  frequently  lost ;  still  occa- 
sionally it  is  very  marked,  even  after  passing  through 
this  foreign  medium.     Take,  for  example,  the  lines, 

"  Her  princes  are  become  like  harts — that  find  no  pasture, 
And  they  are  gone  without  strength — before  the  pursuer ; "  ' 


HEBREW  ELEGIES  65 

or  again  the  very  long  line, 

"It  is  of  the  Lord's  mercies  that  we  are  not  consumed — because 
His  compassions  fail  not."  ' 

Now  although  this  is  only  a  structural  feature  it 
points  to  inferences  of  deeper  significance.  It  shews 
that  the  Hebrew  poets  paid  special  attention  to  the 
elegy  as  a  species  of  verse  to  be  treated  apart,  and 
therefore  that  they  attached  a  peculiar  significance  to 
the  ideas  and  feelings  it  expresses.  The  ease  with 
which  the  transition  to  the  elegiac  form  of  verse  is 
made  whenever  an  occasion  for  using  it  occurs  is  a 
hint  that  this  must  have  been  familiar  to  the  Jews. 
Possibly  it  was  in  common  use  at  funerals  in  the  dirge. 
We  mieet  with  an  early  specimen  of  this  verse  in  Amos, 
when,  just  after  announcing  that  he  is  about  to  utter 
a  lamentation  over  the  house  of  Israel,  the  herdsman 
of  Tekoa  breaks  into  elegiacs  with  the  words, 

"The  virgin  daughter  of  Israel  is  fallen — she  shall  no  more  rise  : 
She  is  cast  down  upon  her  land — there  is  none  to  raise  her  up."  ^ 

Similarly  constructed  elegiac  pieces  are  scattered 
over  the  Old  Testament  scriptures  from  the  eighth 
century  b.c.  onwards.  Several  illustrations  of  this 
peculiar  kind  of  metre  are  to  be  found  in  the  Psalms.  It 
is  employed  ironically  with  terrible  effect  in  the  Book  of 
Isaiah,  where  the  mock  lament  over  the  death  of  the  king 
of  Babylon  is  constructed  in  the  form  of  a  true  elegy. 
When  the  prophet  made  a  sudden  transition  from  his 
normal  style  to  sombre  funereal  measures  his  purpose 
would  be  at  once  recognised,  for  his  words  would  sound 
like  the  tolling  bell  and  the  muffled  drums  that  announce 

'  iii.  22.       ■  ^  Amos  v.  2. 


66  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 


the  march  of  death ;  and  yet  it  would  be  known  that 
this  solemn  pomp  was  not  really  a  demonstration  of 
mourning  or  a  symbol  of  respect,  but  only  the  pageantry 
of  scorn  and  hatred  and  vengeance.  The  sarcasm 
would  strike  home  with  the  more  force  since  it  fell  on 
m.en's  ears  in  the  heavy,  lingering  lines  of  the  elegy, 
as  the  exultant  patriot  exclaimed, 

"  How  hath  the  oppressor  ceased — the  golden  city  ceased  ! 
The  Lord  hath  broken  the  staff  of  the  wicked — the  sceptre  of  the 
rulers,"  etc' 

A  special  characteristic  of  the  five  elegies  that  make 
up  the  Book  of  Lamentations  is  their  alphabetical  ar- 
rangement. Each  elegy  consists  of  twenty-two  verses, 
the  same  number  as  that  of  the  letters  in  the  Hebrew 
alphabet.  All  but  the  last  are  acrostics,  the  initial 
letter  of  each  verse  following  the  order  of  the  alphabet. 
In  the  third  elegy  every  line  in  the  verse  begins 
with  the  same  letter.  According  to  another  way  of 
reckoning,  this  poem  consists  of  sixty-six  verses 
arranged  in  triplets,  each  of  which  not  only  follows 
the  order  of  the  alphabet  with  its  first  letter,  but  also 
has  this  initial  letter  repeated  at  the  beginning  of  each 
of  its  three  verses.  Alphabetical  acrostics  are  not 
unknown  elsewhere  in  the  Old  Testament ;  there  are 
several  instances  of  them  in  the  Psalms.^  The  method 
is  generally  thought  to  have  been  adopted  as  an 
expedient  to  assist  the  memory.  Clearly  it  is  a  some- 
what artificial  arrangement,  cramping  the  imagination 
of  the  poet ;  and  it  is  regarded  by  some  as  a  sign  of 
literary  decadence.  Whatever  view  we  may  take  of  it 
from  the  standpoint  of  purely  artistic  criticism,  we  can 

'  Isa.  xiv.  ^  ff. 

^  E.g.,  Psalms  ix.,  x.,  xxv.,  xxxiv.,  xxxvii.,  cxix.,  cxlv. 


HEBREW  ELEGIES  67 


derive  one  important  conclusion  concerning  the  mental 
attitude  of  the  writer  from  a  consideration  of  the 
elaborate  structure  of  the  verse.  Although  this  poetry 
is  evidently  inspired  by  deep  emotion — emotion  so 
profound  that  it  cannot  even  be  restrained  by  the  stiffest 
vesture — still  the  author  is  quite  self-possessed  :  he  is 
not  at  all  over-mastered  by  his  feelings ;  what  he  says 
is  the  outcome  of  dehberation  and  reflection. 

Passing  from  the  form  to  the  substance  of  the  elegy, 
our  attention  is  arrested  on  the  threshold  of  the  more 
serious  enquiry  by  another  link  of  connection  between 
the  two.  In  accordance  with  a  custom  of  which  we 
have  other  instances  in  the  Hebrew  Bible,  the  first 
word  in  the  text  is  taken  as  the  title  of  the  book. 
The  haphazard  name  is  more  appropriate  in  this  case 
than  it  sometimes  proves  to  be,  for  the  first  word  of 
the  first  chapter— the  original  Hebrew  for  which  is  the 
Jewish  title  of  the  book — is  "  How."  Now  this  is  a 
characteristic  word  for  the  commencement  of  an  elegy. 
Three  out  of  the  five  elegies  in  Lamentations  begin 
with  it ;  so  does  the  mock  elegy  in  Isaiah.  Moreover, 
it  is  not  only  suggestive  of  the  form  of  a  certain  kind 
of  poetry;  it  is  a  hint  of  the  spirit  in  which  that 
poetry  is  conceived ;  it  strikes  the  key-note  for  all 
that  follows.  Therefore  it  may  not  be  superfluous 
for  us  to  consider  the  significance  of  this  little  word 
in  the  present  connection. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  a  sort  of  note  of  exclamation 
prefixed  to  the  sentence  it  introduces.  Thus  it  infuses 
an  emotional  element  into  the  statements  which  follow 
it.  The  word  is  a  reHc  of  the  most  primitive  form 
of  language.  Judging  from  the  sounds  produced  by 
animals  and  the  cries  of  little  children,  we  should 
conclude  that  the  first   approach  to  speech  would   be 


68  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 


a  simple  expression  of  excitement — a  scream  of  pain,  a 
shout  of  delight,  a  yell  of  rage,  a  shriek  of  surprise. 
Next  to  the  mere  venting  of  feeling  comes  the  utterance 
of  desire — a  request,  either  for  the  possession  of  some 
coveted  boon,  or  for  deliverance  from  something  ob- 
jectionable. Thus  the  dog  barks  for  his  bone,  or  barks 
again  to  be  freed  from  his  chain  ;  and  the  child  cries 
for  a  toy,  or  for  protection  from  a  terror.  If  this  is 
correct  it  will  be  only  at  the  third  stage  of  speech  that 
we  shall  reach  statements  of  fact  pure  and  simple. 
Conversely,  it  may  be  argued  that  as  the  progress  of 
cultivation  develops  the  perceptive  and  reasoning 
faculties  and  corresponding  forms  of  speech,  the 
primitive  emotional  and  volitional  types  of  language 
must  recede.  Our  phlegmatic  English  temperament 
predisposes  us  to  take  this  view.  It  is  not  easy  for  us 
to  sympathise  with  the  expressiveness  of  an  excitable 
Oriental  people.  What  to  them  is  perfectly  natural 
and  not  at  all  inconsistent  with  true  manliness  strikes 
us  as  a  childish  weakness.  Is  not  this  a  trifle  insular  ? 
The  emotions  constitute  as  essential  a  part  of  human 
nature  as  the  observing  and  reasoning  faculties,  and 
it  cannot  be  proved  that  to  stifle  them  beneath  a  calm 
exterior  is  more  right  and  proper  than  to  give  them  a 
certain  adequate  expression.  That  this  expression  may 
be  found  even  among  ourselves  is  apparent  from  the 
singular  fact  that  the  English,  who  are  the  most 
prosaic  people  in  their  conduct,  have  given  the  world 
more  good  poetry  than  any  other  nation  of  modern 
times ;  a  fact  which,  perhaps,  may  be  explained  on 
the  principle  that  the  highest  poetry  is  not  the  rank 
outgrowth  of  irregulated  passions,  but  the  cultivated 
fruit  of  deep-rooted  ideas.  Still  these  ideas  must 
be   warmed  with   feeling  before   they  will  germinate. 


HEBREW  ELEGIES  69 


Much  more,  when  we  are  not  merely  interested  in  poetic 
literature,  when  we  are  in  earnest  about  practical 
actions,  an  artificial  restraint  of  the  emotions  must 
be  mischievous.  No  doubt  the  unimpassioned  style 
has  its  mission — in  allaying  a  panic,  for  example. 
But  it  will  not  inspire  men  to  attempt  a  forlorn  hope. 
Society  will  never  be  saved  by  hysterics  ;  but  neither 
will  it  ever  be  saved  by  statistics.  It  may  be  that  the 
exclamation  how  is  a  feeble  survival  of  the  savage 
howl.  Nevertheless  the  emotional  expression,  when 
regulated  as  the  taming  of  the  sound  suggests,  will 
always  play  a  very  real  part  in  the  life  of  mankind, 
even  at  the  most  highly  developed  stage  of  civilisation. 

In  the  second  place,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  this 
word  introduces  a  tone  of  vagueness  into  the  sentences 
which  it  opens.  A  description  beginning  as  these 
elegies  begin  would  not  serve  the  purpose  of  an 
inventory  of  the  ruins  of  Jerusalem  such  as  an  insur- 
ance society  would  demand  in  the  present  day.  The 
facts  are  viewed  through  an  atmosphere  of  feeling,  so 
that  their  chronological  order  is  confused  and  their 
details  melt  one  into  another.  That  is  not  to  say  that 
they  are  robbed  of  all  value.  Pure  impressionism  may 
reveal  truths  which  no  hard,  exact  picture  can  render 
clear  to  us.  These  elegies  make  us  see  the  desolation 
of  Jerusalem  more  vividly  than  the  most  accurate 
photographs  of  the  scenes  referred  to  could  have  done, 
because  they  help  us  to  enter  into  the  passion  of  the 
event. 

With  this  idea  of  vagueness,  however,  there  is  joined 
a  sense  of  vastness.  The  note  of  exclamation  is  also 
a  note  of  admiration.  The  language  is  indefinite  in 
part  for  the  very  reason  that  the  scene  beggars  descrip- 
tion.    The  cynical  spirit  which  would  reduce  all  life  to 


70  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 


the  level  of  a  Dutch  landscape  is  here  excluded  by  the 
overwhelming  mass  of  the  troubles  bewailed.  The 
cataract  of  sorrow  awes  us  with  the  greatness  of  its 
volume  and  the  thunder  of  its  fall. 

From  suggestions  thus  rising  out  of  a  consideration 
of  the  opening  word  of  the  elegy  we  may  be  led  on  to 
a  perception  of  similar  traits  in  the  body  of  this  poetry. 
It  is  emotional  in  character ;  it  is  vague  in  description ; 
and  it  sets  before  us  visions  of  vast  woe. 

But  now  it  is  quite  clear  that  poetry  such  as  this 
must  be  something  else  than  the  wild  expression  of 
grief.  It  is  a  product  of  reflection.  The  acute  stage 
of  suffering  is  over.  The  writer  is  musing  upon  a  sad 
past ;  or  if  at  times  he  is  reflecting  on  a  present  state 
of  distress,  still  he  is  regarding  this  as  the  result  of 
more  violent  scenes,  in  the  midst  of  which  the  last 
thing  a  man  would  think  of  doing  would  be  to  sit  down 
and  compose  a  poem.  This  reflective  poetry  v/ill  give 
us  emotion,  still  warm,  but  shot  with  thought. 

The  reflectiveness  of  the  elegy  does  not  take  the 
direction  of  philosophy.  It  does  not  speculate  on  the 
mystery  of  suffering.  It  does  not  ask  such  obstinate 
questions,  or  engage  in  such  vexatious  dialectics,  as 
circle  about  the  problem  of  evil  in  the.  Book  of  Job. 
Leaving  those  difficult  matters  to  the  theologians  who 
care  to  wrestle  with  them,  the  elegist  is  satisfied  to 
dwell  on  his  theme  in  a  quiet,  meditative  mood,  and 
to  permit  his  ideas  to  flow  on  spontaneously  as  in  a 
reverie.  .  Thus  it  happens  that,  artificial  as  is  the  form 
of  his  verse,  the  underlying  thought  seems  to  be  natural 
and  unforced.  In  this  way  he  represents  to  us  the 
afterglow  of  sunset  which  follows  the  day  of  storm 
and  terror. 

The  afterglov/  is  beautiful — that  is  what    the    elegy 


HEBREW  ELEGIES  71 

makes  evident.  It  paints  the  beauty  of  sorrow.  It  is 
able  to  do  so  only  because  it  contemplates  the  scene 
indirectly,  as  portrayed  in  the  mirror  of  thought.  An 
immediate  vision  of  pain  is  itself  wholly  painful.  If  the 
agony  is  intense,  and  if  no  relief  can  be  offered,  we  in- 
stinctively turn  aside  from  the  sickening  sight.  Only 
a  brutalised  people  could  find  amusement  in  the  ghastly 
spectacle  of  the  Roman  amphitheatre.  It  is  cited  as  a 
proof  of  Domitian's  diabolical  cruelty  that  the  emperor 
would  have  dying  slaves  brought  before  him  in  order 
that  he  might  watch  the  facial  expression  of  their  last 
agonies.  Such  scenes  are  not  fit  subjects  for  art. 
The  famous  group  of  the  Laocoon  is  considered  by 
many  to  have  passed  the  boundaries  of  legitimate 
representation  in  the  terror  and  torment  of  its  subject ; 
and  Ecce  Homos  and  pictures  of  the  crucifixion  can 
only  be  defended  from  a  similar  condemnation  when 
the  profound  spiritual  significance  of  the  subjects  is 
made  to  dominate  the  bare  torture.  Faced  squarely,  in 
the  glare  of  day,  pain  and  death  are  grim  ogres,  the 
ugliness  of  which  no  amount  of  sentiment  can  disguise. 
You  can  no  more  find  poetry  in  a  present  Inferno  than 
flowers  in  the  red  vomit  of  a  live  volcano.  Men  who 
have  seen  war  tell  us  they  have  discovered  nothing 
attractive  in  its  dreadful  scenes  of  blood  and  anguish 
and  fury.  What  could  be  more  revolting  to  contem- 
plate than  the  sack  of  a  city, — fire  and  sword  in  every 
street,  public  buildings  razed  to  the  ground,  honoured 
monuments  defaced,  homes  ravaged,  children  torn  from 
the  arms  of  their  parents,  young  girls  dragged  away 
to  a  horrible  fate,  lust,  robbery,  slaughter  rampant 
without  shame  or  restraint,  the  wild  beast  in  the  con- 
querors let  loose,  and  a  whole  army,  suddenly  freed 
from  all  rules  of  discipline,  behaving  like  a  swarm  of 


72  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

demons  just  escaped  from  hell.  To  think  of  cultivating 
art  or  poetry  in  the  presence  of  such  scenes  would  be 
as  absurd  as  to  attempt  a  musical  entertainment  among 
the  shrieks  of  lost  souls. 

The  case  assumes  another  aspect  when  we  pass  from 
the  region  of  personal  observation  to  that  of  reflection. 
There  is  no  beauty  in  the  sight  of  a  captured  castle 
immediately  after  the  siege  which  ended  in  its  fall,  its 
battlemients  shattered,  its  walls  seamed  with  cracks, 
here  and  there  a  breach,  rough  and  ragged,  and  strewn 
with  stones  and  dust.  And  yet,  by  slow  degrees  and 
in  imperceptible  ways,  time  and  nature  will  transform 
the  scene  until  moss-grown  walls  and  ivy-covered 
towers  acquire  a  new  beauty  only  seen  among  ruins. 
Nature  heals  and  time  softens,  and  between  them  they 
throw  a  mantle  of  grace  over  the  scars  of  what  were 
once  ugly,  gaping  wounds.  Pain  as  it  recedes  into 
memory  is  transmuted  into  pathos ;  and  pathos  always 
fascinates  us  with  some  approach  to  beauty.  If  it  is 
true  that 

"  Poets  learn  in  sorrow  what  they  teach  in  song," 

must  it  not  be  also  the  fact  that  sorrow  while  in- 
spiring song  is  itself  glorified  thereby  ?  To  use  suffer- 
ing merely  as  the  food  of  aestheticism  would  be  to 
degrade  it  immeasurably.  We  should  rather  put  the 
case  the  other  way.  Poetry  saves  sorrow  from  be- 
coming sordid  by  reveahng  its  beauty,  and  in  epic 
heroism  even  its  sublimity.  It  helps  us  to  perceive 
hovv^  much  more  depth  there  is  in  life  than  was  apparent 
under  the  glare  and  glamour  of  prosperity.  Some  of  us 
may  recollect  how  shallow  and  shadowy  our  own  lives 
were  felt  to  be  in  the  simple  days  before  we  had  tasted 
the    bitter   cup.     There  was  a  hunger   then  for  some 


HEBREW  ELEGIES  73 


deeper  experience  which  seemed  to  lie  beyond  our 
reach.  While  we  naturally  shrank  from  entering  the 
via  dolorosa,  we  were  dimly  conscious  that  the  pilgrims 
who  trod  its  rough  stones  had  discovered  a  secret  that 
remained  hidden  from  us,  and  we  coveted  their  attain- 
ment, although  we  did  not  envy  the  bitter  experience 
by  which  it  had  been  acquired.  This  feeling  may  have 
been  due  in  part  to  the  foolish  sentimentality  that  is 
sometimes  indulged  in  by  extreme  youth  ;  but  that  is 
not  the  whole  explanation  of  it,  for  when  our  path 
conducts  us  from  the  flat,  monotonous  plain  of  ease 
and  comfort  into  a  region  of  chasms  and  torrents,  we 
do  indeed  discover  an  unsuspected  depth  in  hfe.  Now 
it  is  the  mission  of  the  poetry  of  sorrow  to  interpret 
this  discovery  to  us.  At  least  it  should  enable  us  to 
read  the  lessons  of  experience  in  the  purest  light.  It 
is  not  the  task  of  the  poet  to  supply  a  categorical 
answer  to  the  riddle  of  the  universe;  stupendous  as 
that  task  would  be,  it  must  be  regarded  as  quite  a 
prosaic  one.  Poetry  will  not  fit  exact  answers  to  set 
questions,  for  poetry  is  not  science ;  but  poetry  will 
open  deaf  ears  and  anoint  blind  eyes  to  receive  the 
voices  and  visions  that  haunt  the  depths  of  experience. 
Thus  it  leads  on  to — 

"  that  blessed  mood, 
In  which  the  burden  of  the  mystery, 
In  which  tlie  heavy  and  the  weary  weight 
Of  all  this  unintelligible  world 
Is  lightened." 

It  may  not  be  obvious  to  the  reader  of  an  elegy 
that  this  function  is  discharged  by  such  a  poem,  for  elegiac 
poetry  seems  to  aim  at  nothing  more  than  the  thoughtful 
expression  of  grief  Certainly  it  is  neither  didactic  nor 
metaphysical.     Nevertheless  in   weaving   a  wreath   of 


74  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

imagination  round  the  sufferings  it  bewails  it  cannot 
but  clothe  them  with  a  rich  significance.  It  would 
seem  to  be  the  mission  of  the  five  inspired  elegies 
contained  in  the  Book  of  Lamentations  thus  to  interpret 
the  sorrows  of  the  Jews,  and  through  them  the  sorrows 
of  mankind. 


CHAPTER    II 

THE  ORIGIN  OF   THE  POEMS 

AS  we  pass  out  of  Jerusalem  by  the  Damascus  Gate, 
and  follow  the  main  north  road,  our  attention 
is  immediately  arrested  by  a  low  hill  of  grey  rock 
sprinkled  with  wild  flowers,  which  is  now  attracting 
peculiar  notice  because  it  has  been  recently  identified 
with  the  "  Golgotha  "  on  which  our  Lord  was  crucified. 
In  the  face  of  this  hill  a  dark  recess— faintly  suggestive 
of  the  eye-socket,  if  we  may  suppose  the  title  '*  Place 
of  a  skull "  to  have  arisen  from  a  fancied  resemblance 
to  a  goat's  skull — is  popularly  known  as  "Jeremiah's 
grotto,"  and  held  by  current  tradition  to  be  the  retreat 
where  the  prophet  composed  the  five  elegies  that  con- 
stitute our  Book  of  Lamentations.  Clambering  with 
difficulty  over  the  loose  stones  that  mark  the  passage 
of  v/inter  torrents,  and  reaching  the  floor  of  the  cave, 
we  are  at  once  struck  by  the  suspicious  aptness  of  the 
**  sacred  site."  In  a  solitude  singularly  retired,  con- 
sidering the  proximity  of  a  great  centre  of  population, 
the  spectator  commands  a  full  view  of  the  whole  city, 
its  embattled  walls  immediately  confronting  him,  with 
clustered  roofs  and  domes  in  the  rear.  What  place 
could  have  been  more  suitable  for  a  poetic  lament  over 
the  ruins  of  fallen  Jerusalem  ?  Moreover,  when  we 
take  into  account  the  dread  associations  derived  from 
the  later  history  of  the  Crucifixion,  v/hat  could  be 
75 


75  THE  LAMENT  A  TIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


more  fitting  than  that  the  mourning  patriot's  tears  for 
the  woes  of  his  city  should  have  been  shed  so  near  to 
the  very  spot  where  her  rejected  Saviour  was  to  suffer  ? 
But  unfortunately  history  cannot  be  constructed  on  the 
lines  of  harmonious  sentiments.  When  we  endeavour 
to  trace  the  legend  that  attributes  the  Lamentations  to 
Jeremiah  back  to  its  source  we  lose  the  stream  some 
centuries  before  we  arrive  at  the  time  of  the  great 
prophet.  No  doubt  for  ages  the  tradition  was  undis- 
puted ;  it  is  found  both  in  Jewish  and  in  Christian 
hterature — in  the  Talmud  and  in  the  Fathers.  Jerome 
popularised  it  in  the  Church  by  transferring  it  to  the 
Vulgate,  and  before  this  Josephus  set  it  down  as  an 
accepted  fact.  It  is  pretty  evident  that  each  of  these 
parallel  currents  of  opinion  may  have  been  derived 
from  the  Septuagint,  which  introduces  the  book  with 
the  sentence,  "  And  it  came  to  pass,  after  Israel  had 
been  carried  away  captive,  and  Jerusalem  had  become 
desolate,  that  Jeremiah  sat  weeping,  and  lamented  with 
this  lamentation  over  Jerusalem,  and  said,"  etc.  Here 
our  upward  progress  in  tracking  the  tradition  is  stayed ; 
no  more  ancient  authority  is  to  be  found.  Yet  we  are 
still  three  hundred  years  from  the  time  of  Jeremiah  ! 
Of  course  it  is  only  reasonable  to  suppose  that  the 
translators  of  the  Greek  version  did  not  make  their 
addition  to  the  Hebrew  text  at  random,  or  v/ithout 
what  they  deemed  sufficient  grounds.  Possibly  they 
were  following  some  documentary  authority,  or,  at  least, 
some  venerable  tradition.  Of  this  we  know^  nothing. 
Meanwhile,  it  must  be  observed  that  no  such  statement 
exists  in  the  Hebrew  Bible ;  and  it  would  never  have 
been  omitted  if  it  had  been  there  originall3^ 

One  other   witness  Jias  been  adduced,  but  only  to 
furnish  testimony  of  an  obscure  and  ambiguous  character. 


THE   ORIGIN  OF  THE  POEMS  77 

In  2  Chron.  xxxv.  25  we  read,  "  And  Jeremiah  lamented 
for  Josiah  ;  and  all  the  singing  men  and  singing  women 
spake  of  Josiah  in  their  lamentations,  unto  this  day  ; 
and  they  made  them  an  ordinance  in  Israel ;  and, 
behold,  they  are  written  in  the  lamentations."  Josephus, 
and  Jerome  after  him,  appear  to  assume  that  the 
chronicler  is  here  referring  to  our  Book  of  Lamentations. 
That  is  very  questionable  ;  for  the  words  describe  an 
elegy  on  Josiah,  and  our  book  contains  no  such  elegy. 
Can  we  suppose  that  the  chronicler  assumed  that  inas- 
much as  Jeremiah  was  believed  to  have  written  a  lament 
for  the  mourners  to  chant  in  commemoration  of  Josiah, 
this  would  be  one  of  the  poems  preserved  in  the  collec- 
tion of  Jerusalem  elegies  familiar  to  readers  of  his  day  ? 
Be  that  as  it  may,  the  chronicler  wrote  in  the  Grecian 
period,  and  therefore  his  statements  come  some  long 
time  after  the  date  of  the  prophet. 

In  this  dearth  of  external  testimony  we  turn  to  the 
book  itself  for  indications  of  origin  and  authorship. 
The  poems  make  no  claim  to  have  been  the  utter- 
ances of  Jeremiah  ;  they  do  not  supply  us  with  their 
author's  name.  Therefore  there  can  be  no  question  of 
genuineness,  no  room  for  an  ugly  charge  of  "  forgery," 
or  a  delicate  ascription  of  "  pseudonymity."  The  case 
is  not  comparable  to  that  of  2  Peter,  or  even  to 
that  of  Ecclesiastes — the  one  of  which  directly  claims 
apostolic  authority,  and  the  other  a  "  Hterary  "  associa- 
tion with  the  name  of  Solomon.  It  is  rather  to  be 
paralleled  with  the  case  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews, 
a  purely  anonymous  work.  Still  there  is  much  which 
seems  to  point  to  Jeremiah  as  the  author  of  these 
intensely  pathetic  elegies.  They  are  not  like  Mac- 
Pherson's  Ossian  ;  nobody  can  question  their  anti- 
quity.    If  they  were  not  quite  contemporaneous  with  the 


78  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

scenes  they  describe  so  graphically  they  cannot  have 
originated  much  later  ;  for  they  are  like  the  low  wailings 
with  which  the  storm  sinks  to  rest,  reminding  us  how 
recently  the  thunder  was  rolling  and  the  besom  of 
destruction  sweeping  over  the  land.  Among  the 
prophets  of  Israel  Jeremiah  was  the  voice  crying  in  the 
wilderness  of  national  ruin  ;  it  is  natural  to  suppose 
that  he  too  was  the  poet  who  poured  out  sad  thoughts 
of  memory  in  song  at  a  later  time  when  sorrow  had 
leisure  for  reflection.  His  prophecies  would  lead  us 
to  conclude  that  no  Jew  of  those  dark  days  could  have 
experienced  keener  pangs  of  grief  at  the  incomparable 
woes  of  his  nation.  He  was  the  very  incarnation  of 
patriotic  mourning.  Who  then  would  be  more  likely 
to  have  produced  the  national  lament  ?  Here  we  seem 
to  meet  again  none  other  than  the  man  who  exclaimed, 
"  Oh  that  I  could  comfort  myself  against  sorrow  1  my 
heart  is  faint  within  me,"^  and  again,  "Oh  that  my 
head  were  waters,  and  mine  eyes  a  fountain  of  tears, 
that  I  might  weep  day  and  night  for  the  slain  of  the 
daughter  of  my  people."  ^  Many  points  of  resemblance 
between  the  known  writings  of  Jeremiah  and  these  poems 
may  be  detected.  Thus  Jeremiah's  "Virgin  daughter" 
of  God's  people  reappears  as  the  "  Virgin  daughter  of 
Judah."  In  both  the  writer  is  oppressed  with  fear 
as  well  as  grief;  in  both  he  especially  denounces  clerical 
vices,  the  sins  of  the  two  rival  lines  of  religious  leaders, 
the  priests  and  the  prophets  ;  in  both  he  appeals  to 
God  for  retribution.  There  is  a  remarkable  likeness  in 
tone  and  temper  throughout  between  the  two  series 
of  writings.  It  would  be  possible  to  adduce  many 
purely  verbal  marks  of  similarity  ;  the  commentator  on 

'  Jer.  viii.  i8.  -  Jer.  ix.  i. 


THE   ORIGIN  OF  THE  POEMS  79 

Lamentations  most  frequently  illustrates  the  meaning 
of  a  word  by  referring  to  a  parallel  usage  in  Jeremiah. 
On  the  other  hand,  several  facts  raise  difficulties  in 
the  way  of  our  accepting  of  the  hypothesis  of  a  com- 
mon authorship.  The  verbal  argument  is  precarious 
at  best ;  it  can  only  be  fully  appreciated  by  the  specialist, 
and  if  accepted  by  the  general  reader,  it  must  be  taken 
on  faith.  Of  course  this  last  point  is  no  valid  objection 
to  the  real  worth  of  the  argument  in  itself;  it  cannot 
be  maintained  that  nothing  is  true  which  may  not  be 
reduced  to  the  level  of  the  "  meanest  intelligence,"  or 
the  "  differential  calculus  "  would  be  a  baseless  fable. 
But  when  the  speciahsts  disagree,  even  the  uninitiated 
have  some  excuse  for  holding  the  case  to  be  not 
proved  for  either  side  ;  and  it  is  thus  with  the  resem- 
blances and  the  differences  between  Jeremiah  and 
Lamentations,  long  lists  of  phrases  used  in  common 
being  balanced  with  equally  long  lists  of  peculiarities 
found  in  one  only  of  the  two  books  in  question.  The 
strongest  objection  to  the  theory  that  Jeremiah  was 
the  author  of  the  Lamentations,  however,  is  one  that 
can  be  more  readily  grasped.  These  poems  are  most 
elaborately  artistic  in  form,  not  to  say  artificial.  Now 
the  objection  which  is  roused  by  that  fact  is  not  simply 
due  to  the  loose  and  less  shapely  construction  of  the 
prophecies  ;  for  it  may  justly  be  urged  that  the  literary 
designs  entertained  by  the  prophet  in  the  leisure  of  his 
later  years  may  have  led  him  to  cultivate  a  style  which 
would  have  been  quite  unsuitable  for  his  practical 
preaching  or  for  the  political  pamphlets  he  used  to  fling 
off  in  the  heat  of  conflict.  It  originates  in  deeper 
psychological  contradictions.  Is  it  possible  that  the 
man  who  had  shed  bitterest  tears,  as  from  his  very 
heart,  in  the  dismal  reality  of  misery,  could  play  with 


So  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

his  troubles  in  fanciful  acrostics?  Can  we  imagine 
a  leading  actor  in  the  tragedy  turning  the  events 
through  which  he  had  passed  into  materials  for  aesthetic 
treatment  ?  Can  we  credit  this  of  so  intense  a  soul 
as  Jeremiah  ?  The  composition  of  In  Memoriam  may 
be  cited  as  an  instance  of  the  production  of  highly 
artistic  poetry  under  the  influence  of  keen  personal 
sorrow.  But  the  case  is  not  parallel;  for  Tennyson 
was  a  passive  mourner  over  the  loss  of  a  friend  under 
circumstances  with  which  he  had  no  connection,  while 
Jeremiah  had  contended  strenuously  for  years  on  the 
field  of  action.  Could  a  man  with  such  a  history  have 
set  himself  to  work  up  its  most  doleful  experiences  into 
the  embroidery  of  a  peculiarly  artificial  form  of  versi- 
fication ?  That  is  the  gravest  difficulty.  Other  objec- 
tions of  minor  weight  follow.  In  the  third  elegy 
Jeremiah  would  seem  to  be  giving  more  prominence  to 
his  own  personality  than  we  should  have  expected  of 
the  brave,  unselfish  prophet.  In  the  fourth  the  writer 
appears  to  associate  himself  with  those  Jews  who  were 
disappointed  in  expecting  deliverance  from  an  Egyptian 
alliance,  when  he  complains — 

"  Our  eyes  do  yet  fail  in  looking  for  our  vain  help  : 
In  watching  we  have  watched  for  a  nation  that  could  not  save," ' 

Would  Jeremiah,  who  bade  the  Jews  bow  to  the  scourge 
of  Jehovah's  chastisement  and  look  for  no  earthly  de- 
liverer, thus  confess  participation  in  the  worldly  policy 
which  he,  in  common  with  all  the  true  prophets,  had 
denounced  as  faithless  and  disobedient  ?  Then,  while 
sharing  Jeremiah's  condemnation  of  the  priests  and 
prophets,  the  writer  appears  to  have  only  commiseration 


iv.  17. 


THE   ORIGIN  OF  THE  POEMS 


for  the  fate  of  the  poor  weak  king  Zedekiah/  This  is 
very  different  from  Jeremiah's  treatment  of  him.^ 

It  is  not  a  serious  objection  that  our  poet  says  of 
Zion, 

"Yea,  her  prophets  find  no  vision  from  the  Lord,"  ^ 

while  we  know  that  Jeremiah  had  visions  after  the 
destruction  of  Jerusalem,*  because  the  general  con- 
dition may  still  have  been  one  characterised  by  the 
silencing  of  the  many  prophets  with  whose  oracles  the 
Jews  had  been  accustomed  to  solace  themselves  in  vie\^ 
of  threatened  calamities  ;  nor  that  he  exclaims, 

"Shall  the  priest  and  the   prophet   be   slain   in  the  sanctuary  of 
the  Lord?"^ 

although  Jeremiah  makes  no  mention  of  this  twofold 
assassination,  because  we  have  no  justification  for  the 
assumption  that  he  recorded  every  horror  of  the  great 
tragedy  ;  nor,  again,  that  the  author  is  evidently  fami- 
liar with  the  Book  of  Deuteronomy,  and  refers  fre- 
quently to  the  "  Song  of  Moses  "  in  particular,  for  this  is 
just  what  we  might  have  expected  of  Jeremiah  ;  and  yet 
these  and  other  similar  but  even  less  conclusive  points 
have  been  brought  forward  as  difficulties.  Perhaps 
it  is  a  more  perplexing  fact,  in  view  of  the  traditional 
hypothesis,  that  the  poet  appears  to  have  made  use 
of  the  writings  of  Ezekiel.  Thus  the  allusion  to  the 
prophets  who  have  "  seen  visions  ...  of  vanity  and  fool- 
ishness," ^  points  to  the  fuller  description  of  these  men 
in  the  writings  of  the  prophet  of  the  exile,  where  the 
completeness  of  the  picture  shews  that  the  priority  is 


'  iv. 

20. 

3  ii.  9. 

5 

ii. 

20. 

^Jer 

.  lii. 

2, 

3- 

'E.g. 

Jer. 

xlii. 

7. 

ii. 

14. 

6 

82  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

with  Ezekiel.^  Similarly  the  "  perfection  of  beauty  " 
ascribed  to  the  daughter  of  Jerusalem  in  the  second 
elegy  ^  reminds  us  of  the  similar  phrase  that  occurs 
more  than  once  in  Ezekiel.^  Still,  that  prophet  wrote 
before  the  time  to  which  the  Lamentations  introduce 
us,  and  it  cannot  be  affirmed  that  Jeremiah  could  not 
have  seen  his  writings,  or  would  not  have  condescended 
to  echo  a  phrase  from  them.  A  difficulty  of  a  broader 
character  must  be  felt  in  the  fact  that  the  poems  them- 
selves give  us  no  hint  of  Jeremiah.  The  appearance 
of  the  five  elegies  in  the  Hagiographa  without  any 
introductory  notice  is  a  grave  objection  to  the  theory 
of  a  Jeremiah  authorship.  If  so  famous  a  prophet 
had  composed  them,  would  not  this  have  been  re- 
corded ?  Even  in  the  Septuagint,  where  they  are 
associated  with  Jeremiah,  they  are  not  translated  by 
the  same  hand  as  the  version  of  the  prophet's  acknow- 
ledged works.  It  may  be  that  none  of  the  objections 
which  have  been  adduced  against  the  later  tradition 
can  be  called  final ;  nor  when  regarded  in  their  total 
force  do  they  absolutely  forbid  the  possibility  that 
Jeremiah  was  the  author  of  the  Lamentations.  But 
then  the  question  is  not  so  much  one  of  possibility  as 
one  of  probability.  We  must  remember  that  we  are 
dealing  with  anonymous  poems  that  make  no  claim 
upon  any  particular  author,  and  that  we  have  no  pleas 
whatever,  special  or  more  general,  on  which  to  defend 
the  guesses  of  a  much  later  and  quite  uncritical  age, 
when  people  cultivated  a  habit  of  attaching  every  shred 
of  literature  that  had  come  down  from  their  ancestors 
to  some  famous  name. 


E.g.  Ezek.  xii.  24,  xiii.  6,  7,  xxii.  28.  '^  Lam.  ii.  15. 

^  Ezek.  xxvii.  3,  xxviii.  12, 


THE   ORIGIN  OF  THE  POEMS  83 

Failing  Jeremiah,  it  is  not  possible  to  hit  upon  any 
other  known  person  with  the  least  assurance.  Some 
have  followed  Bunsen  in  his  conjecture  that  Baruch 
the  scribe  may  have  been  the  author  of  the  poems. 
Others  have  suggested  a  member  of  the  family  of 
Shaphan,  in  which  Jeremiah  found  his  most  loyal 
friends.^ 

It  is  much  questioned  whether  the  five  elegies  are 
the  work  of  one  man.  The  second,  the  third,  and 
the  fourth  follow  a  slightly  different  alphabetical 
arrangement  from  that  which  is  employed  in  the  first 
— in  reversing  the  order  of  two  letters,^  while  the  in- 
ternal structure  of  the  verses  in  the  third  shews  another 
variation — the  threefold  repetition  of  the  acrostic. 
Then  the  personality  of  the  poet  emerges  more  dis- 
tinctly in  the  third  elegy  as  the  centre  of  interest 
— a  marked  contrast  to  the  method  of  the  other 
poems.  Lastly,  the  fifth  differs  from  its  predecessors  in 
several  respects.  Its  lines  are  shorter;  it  is  not  an 
acrostic  ;  it  is  chiefly  devoted  to  the  insults  heaped 
upon  the  Jews  by  their  enemies ;  and  it  seems  to 
belong  to  a  later  time,  for  while  the  four  previous 
poems  treat  of  the  siege  of  Jerusalem  and  its  accom- 
panying troubles,  this  one  is  concerned  with  the 
subsequent  state  of  servitude,  and  reflects  on  the  ruin 
of  the  nation  across  some  interval  of  time.  Thus  the 
poet  cries — 

"Wherefore  doest  thou  forget  us  for  ever, 
And  forsake  us  so  long  time  ?  "  ^ 

A  recent  attempt  to  assign  the  last  two  elegies  to  the 
age  of  the  Maccabees  has  entirely  broken  down.     The 

'  See  Jer.  xxvi.  24,  xxix.  3  ff,  xl.  5.  *  1/  and  D, 


84  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

points  of  agreement  with  that  age  which  have  been 
adduced  will  fit  the  Babylonian  period  equally  well, 
and  the  most  significant  marks  of  the  later  time  are 
entirely  absent.  Is  it  conceivable  that  a  description 
of  the  persecution  by  Antiochus  Epiphanes  would  con- 
tain no  hint  of  the  martyr  fidelity  of  the  devout  Jews 
to  their  law  which  was  so  gloriously  maintained  under 
the  Maccabees?  The  fourth  and  fifth  elegies  are  as 
completely  silent  on  this  subject  as  the  earlier  elegies. 

The  evidence  that  points  to  any  diversity  of  author- 
ship is  very  feeble.  The  fifth  elegy  may  have  been 
written  years  later  than  the  rest  of  the  book,  and  yet  it 
may  have  come  from  the  same  source,  for  the  example 
of  Tennyson  shews  that  the  gift  of  poetry  is  not  always 
confined  to  but  a  brief  interval  in  the  poet  life.  The 
other  distinctions  are  not  nearly  so  marked  as  some 
that  may  be  observed  in  the  recognised  poems  of  a  single 
author — for  example,  the  amazing  differences  between 
the  smooth  style  of  The  Idylls  of  the  King  and  the  quaint 
dialect  of  The  Northern  Farmer.  Though  some  differ- 
ences of  vocabulary  have  been  discovered,  the  resem- 
blances between  all  the  five  poems  are  much  more 
striking.  In  motive  and  spirit  and  feeling  they  are 
perfectly  agreed.  While  therefore  in  our  ignorance 
of  the  origin  of  the  Lamentations,  and  in  recognition 
of  the  variations  that  have  been  indicated,  we  cannot 
deny  that  they  may  have  been  collected  from  the 
utterances  of  two  or  even  three  inspired  souls,  neither 
are  we  by  any  means  forced  to  assent  to  this  opinion  ; 
and  under  these  circumstances  it  will  be  justifiable  as 
well  as  convenient  to  refer  to  the  authorship  of  Lamen- 
tations in  terras  expressive  of  a  single  individual.  One 
thing  is  fairly  certain.  The  author  was  a  contemporary, 
an  eye-witness  of  the  frightful  calamities  he  bewailed. 


THE   ORIGIN  OF  THE  POEMS  85 


With  all  their  artificiality  of  structure  these  elegies  are 
the  outpourings  of  a  heart  moved  by  a  near  vision  of 
the  scenes  of  the  Babylonian  invasion.  The  svv^ift, 
vivid  pictures  of  the  siege  and  its  accompanying 
miseries  force  upon  our  minds  the  conclusion  that  the 
poet  must  have  moved  in  the  thick  of  the  events  he 
narrates  so  graphically,  although,  unlike  Jeremiah,  he 
does  not  seem  to  have  been  a  leading  actor  in  them. 
Children  cry  to  their  mothers  for  bread,  and  faint 
with  hunger  at  every  street  corner ;  the  ghastly 
rumour  goes  forth  that  a  mother  has  boiled  her  baby  ; 
elders  sit  on  the  ground  in  silence ;  young  maidens 
hang  their  heads  despairing;  princes  tremble  in  their 
helplessness ;  the  enemy  break  through  the  walls, 
carry  havoc  into  the  city,  insolently  trample  the  sacred 
courts  of  the  temple ;  even  the  priest  and  the  prophet 
do  not  escape  in  the  indiscriminate  carnage ;  wounded 
people  are  seen,  with  blood  upon  their  garments, 
wandering  aimlessly  Hke  blind  men ;  the  temple  is 
destroyed,  its  rich  gold  bedimmed  with  smoke,  and 
the  city  herself  left  waste  and  desolate,  while  the 
exultant  victors  pour  ridicule  over  the  misery  of  their 
prey.  A  later  generation  would  have  blurred  the  out- 
line of  these  scenes,  regarding  them  through  the  shifting 
mists  of  rumour,  with  more  or  less  indistinctness. 
Besides,  the  motive  for  the  composition  of  such  elegies 
would  vanish  with  the  lapse  of  time.  Still  some  few 
years  must  be  allowed  for  the  patriot's  brooding  over 
the  scenes  he  had  witnessed,  until  the  memory  of  them 
had  mellowed  sufficiently  for  them  to  become  the 
subjects  of  song.  The  fifth  elegy,  at  all  events,  im- 
plies a  considerable  interval,  Jerusalem  was  destroyed 
in  the  year  b.c.  587  ;  therefore  we  may  safely  date  the 
poems  from  about  b.c.  550  onwards — i.e.,  at  some  time 


86  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

during  the  second  half  of  the  sixth  century.  What  is 
of  more  moment  for  us  to  know  is  that  we  have  here 
no  falsetto  notes,  such  as  we  may  sometimes  detect  in 
Virgil's  exquisite  descriptions  of  the  siege  of  Troy,  for 
the  poet  has  witnessed  the  fiery  ordeal  the  recollection 
of  which  now  inspires  his  song.  Thus  out  of  the 
unequalled  woes  of  Jerusalem  destroyed  he  has  pro- 
vided for  all  ages  the  typical,  divinely  inspired  expres- 
sion of  sorrow — primarily  the  expression  of  sorrow — 
and  then  associated  with  this  some  pregnant  hints  both 
of  its  dark  relationship  to  sin  and  of  its  higher  connec- 
tion with  the  purposes  of  God. 


CHAPTER    III 

THE   THEME 

NO  more  pathetic  subject  ever  inspired  a  poet  than 
that  which  became  the  theme  of  the  Lamentations. 
Wave  after  wave  of  invasion  had  swept  over  Jerusalem, 
until  at  length  the  miserable  city  had  been  reduced  to 
a  heap  of  ruins.  After  the  decisive  defeat  of  the 
Egyptians  at  the  great  battle  of  Carchemish  during  the 
reign  of  Jehoiakim,  Nebuchadnezzar  broke  into  Jerusa- 
lem and  carried  off  some  of  the  sacred  vessels  from  the 
temple,  leaving  a  disorganised  country  at  the  mercy  of 
the  wild  tribes  of  Bedouin  from  beyond  the  Jordan. 
Three  months  after  the  accession  of  Jehoiakin,  the  son 
of  Jehoiakim,  the  Chaldaeans  again  visited  the  city, 
pillaged  the  temple  and  the  royal  palace,  and  sent  the 
first  band  of  captives,  consisting  of  the  very  elite  of  the 
citizens,  with  Ezekiel  among  them,  into  captivity  at 
Babylon.  This  was  only  the  beginning  of  troubles. 
Zedekiah,  who  was  set  up  as  a  mere  vassal  king, 
intrigued  with  Pharaoh  Hophra,  a  piece  of  folly  which 
called  down  upon  himself  and  his  people  the  savage 
vengeance  of  Nebuchadnezzar.  Jerusalem  now  suffered 
all  the  horrors  of  a  siege,  which  lasted  for  a  year  and  a 
half  Famine  and  pestilence  preyed  upon  the  inhabit- 
ants ;  and  yet  the  Jews  were  holding  out  with  a  stub- 
born resistance,  when  the  invaders  effected  an  entrance 
by  night,  and  were  encamped  in  the  temple  court  before 


88  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

the  astonished  king  was  aware  of  their  presence.  Zede- 
kiah  then  imitated  the  secrecy  of  his  enemies.  With  a 
band  of  followers  he  crept  out  of  one  of  the  eastern 
gates,  and  fled  down  the  defile  towards  the  Jordan ; 
but  he  was  overtaken  near  Jericho,  and  conveyed  a 
prisoner  to  Riblah  ;  his  sons  were  killed  in  his  very 
presence,  his  eyes  were  burnt  out,  and  the  wretched 
man  sent  in  chains  to  Babylon.  The  outrages  per- 
petrated against  the  citizens  at  Jerusalem  as  well  as  the 
sufferings  of  the  fugitives  were  such  as  are  only  possible 
in  barbarous  warfare.  Finally  the  city  was  razed  to 
the  ground  and  her  famous  temple  burnt. 

The  Lamentations  bewail  the  fall  of  a  city.  In  this 
respect  they  are  unlike  the  normal  type  of  elegiac  poetr}'. 
As  a  rule,  the  elegy  is  personal  in  character  and  indivi- 
dualistic, mourning  the  untimely  death  of  some  one 
beloved  friend  of  the  writer.  It  is  the  revelation  of  a 
private  grief,  although  with  a  poet's  privilege  its  author 
calls  upon  his  readers  to  share  his  sorrow.  In  the 
classic  model  of  this  order  of  verse  Milton  justifies  the 
intrusion  of  his  distress  upon  the  peace  of  nature  by 
exclaiming — 

"  For  Lycidas  is  dead,  dead  ere  his  prime, 
Young  Lycidas,  and  hath  not  left  his  peer. 
Who  would   not  sing  for  Lycidas  ?  " 

And  Shelley,  while  treating  his  theme  in  an  ethereal, 
fantastic  way,  still  represents  Alastor,  the  Spirit  of 
Solitude,  in  the  person  of  one  who  has  just  died,  when 
he  cries — 

"  But  thou  art  fled, 
Like  some  frail  exhalation  which  the    dawn 
Robes  in  its  golden  beams, — ah  !  thou  hast  fled ! 
The  brave,   the  gentle,   and   the   beautiful, 
he  child  of  grace  and  genius." 


THE   THEME 


Gray's  well-known  elegy,  it  is  true,  is  not  confined  to 
the  fate  of  a  single  individual ;  the  churchyard  suggests 
the  pathetic  reflections  of  the  poet  on  the  imaginary 
lives  and  characters  of  many  past  inhabitants  of  the 
village.  Nevertheless  these  cross  the  stage  one  by  one  ; 
the  village  itself  has  not  been  destroyed,  like  Goldsmith's 
"  Sweet  Auburn."  Jeremiah's  lamentation  on  the  death 
of  Josiah  must  have  been  a  personal  elegy  ;  so  was  the 
scornful  lament  over  the  king  of  Babylon  in  Isaiah. 
But  now  we  have  a  different  kind  of  subject  in  the  Book 
of  Lamentations.  Here  it  is  the  fate  of  Jerusalem,  the 
fate  of  the  city  itself  as  well  as  that  of  its  citizens,  that 
is  deplored.  To  rouse  the  imagination  and  awaken  the 
sympathy  of  the  reader  Zion  is  personified,  and  thus 
the  poetry  is  assimilated  in  form  to  the  normal  elegy. 
Still  it  is  important  for  us  to  take  note  of  this  dis- 
tinguishing trait  of  the  Lamentations  ;  they  bewail  the 
ruin  of  a  city. 

Poetry  inspired  with  this  intention  must  acquire  a 
certain  breadth  not  found  in  more  personal  effusions. 
Too  much  indulgence  in  private  grief  cannot  but  produce 
a  narrowing  effect  upon  the  mind.  Intense  pain  is  as 
selfish  as  intense  pleasure.  We  may  mourn  our  dead 
until  we  have  no  room  left  in  our  sympathies  for  the 
great  ocean  of  troubles  among  the  living  that  surges 
round  the  little  island  of  our  personal  interests. 

This  misfortune  is  escaped  in  the  Lamentations. 
Close  as  is  the  poet's  relations  with  the  home  of  his 
childhood,  there  is  still  some  approach  to  altruism  in 
his  lament  over  the  desolation  of  Jerusalem  viewed  as 
a  whole,  rather  than  over  the  death  of  his  immediate 
friends  alone.  There  is  a  largeness,  too,  in  it.  We 
find  it  difficult  to  recover  the  ancient  feeling  for  the 
city.      Our   more   important   towns   are   so  huge  and 


90  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OE  JEREMIAH 

shapeless  that  the  inhabitants  fail  to  grasp  the  unity, 
the  wholeness  of  the  wilderness  of  streets  and  houses  ; 
and  yet  they  so  effectually  overshadow  the  smaller 
towns  that  these  places  do  not  venture  to  assume  much 
civic  pride.  Besides,  the  general  tendency  of  modern 
life  is  individuahstic.  Even  the  more  recent  attempts 
to  rouse  interest  in  comprehensive  social  questions  are 
conceived  in  a  spirit  of  sympathy  for  the  individual 
rights  and  needs  of  the  people,  and  do  not  spring  from 
any  great  concern  for  the  prosperity  of  the  corporation 
as  such.  No  doubt  this  is  an  indication  of  a  movement 
in  a  right  direction.  The  old  civic  idea  was  too 
abstract;  it  sacrificed  the  citizens  to  the  city,  beau- 
tifying the  public  buildings  in  the  most  costly  manner, 
while  the  people  were  crowded  in  miserable  dens  to 
rot  and  die  unseen  and  unpitied.  We  substitute 
sanitation  for  splendour.  This  is  more  sensible,  more 
practical,  more  humane,  if  it  is  more  prosaic  ;  for  life 
is  something  else  than  poetry.  Still  it  may  be  worth 
while  asking  whether  in'  aiming  at  a  useful,  homely 
object  it  is  so  essential  to  abandon  the  old  ideal 
altogether,  because  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  price 
we  pay  is  seen  in  a  certain  dinginess  and  commonness 
of  living.  Is  it  necessary  that  philanthropy  should 
always  remain  Philistine  ? 

The  largeness  of  view  which  breaks  upon  us  when 
we  begin  to  think  of  the  city  as  a  whole  rather  than 
only  of  a  number  of  isolated  individuals  is  more  than 
a  perception  of  mass  and  magnitude.  The  city  is  an 
organism  ;  and  not  like  an  animal  of  the  lower  orders, 
such  as  the  amlids  or  centipedes^  in  which  every 
segment  is  simply  a  replica  of  its  neighbour,  it  is  an 
organism  maintained  in  efficiency  by  means  of  a  great 
variety  of  mutual   ministeries.      Thus  it  is  a  unit  in 


THE   THEME  91 


itself  more  elaborately  differentiated,  and  therefore  in  a 
sense  higher  in  the  scale  of  being  than  its  constituent 
elements,  the  individual  inhabitants.  The  destruction 
of  a  city  constituted  in  this  way  is  a  serious  loss  to 
the  world.  Even  if  no  one  inhabitant  is  killed,  and 
quite  apart  from  the  waste  of  property  and  the  ruin 
of  commerce,  the  dissolution  of  the  organism  leaves 
a  tremendous  gap.  The  scattered  people  may  acquire 
a  new  prosperity  "in  the  land  of  their  exile,  but 
still  the  city  will  have  vanished.  The  Jews  sur- 
vived the  destruction  of  Jerusalem ;  yet  who  shall 
estimate  the  loss  that  this  destruction  of  their  national 
capital  involved  ? 

Then  the  city  being  a  definite  organic  unit  has  its 
own  history,  a  history  which  is  immensely  more  than 
the  sum  of  the  biographies  of  its  inhabitants — stretch- 
ing down  from  remote  ages,  and  joining  the  distant 
past  with  present  days.  Here,  then,  time  adds  to  the 
largeness  of  the  city  idea.  The  brevity  of  life  seems 
to  assign  a  petty  part  to  the  individual.  But  that 
brevity  vanishes  in  the  long,  continuous  story  of  an 
ancient  city.  A  man  may  well  be  proud  of  his  con- 
nection with  such  a  record,  unless  it  be  one  of 
wickedness  and  shame ;  and  even  in  that  case  his 
relations  to  a  great  city  deepen  and  widen  his  life, 
though  the  result  may  be,  as  it  was  with  the  devout 
Jew,  to  induce  grief  and  humiliation.  But  Jerusalem 
had  her  records  of  glory  as  well  as  her  tales  of  shame. 
The  city  of  David  and  Solomon  held  garnered  stores 
of  legend  and  history,  in  the  rich  memories  of  which 
each  of  her  children  had  a  heritage.  The  overthrow  of 
Jerusalem  was  the  dissipation  of  a  great  inheritance. 

And  this  is  not  all.  The  city  has  its  own  peculiar 
character — a  character  which  is  not   only  more    than 


92  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

a  summary  of  the  morals  and  manners  of  the  men  and 
women  who  Hve  in  it,  but  also  unique  when  compared 
with  other  cities.  Every  city  that  can  boast  of  real 
civic  life  has  its  distinctive  individuality ;  and  often  this 
is  as  striking  as  the  individuality  of  any  private  person. 
Birmingham  is  very  unlike  Manchester  ;  nobody  could 
mistake  Glasgow  for  Edinburgh.  London,  Paris, 
Berlin,  Rome,  Melbourne,  New  York — each  of  these 
cities  is  unique.  The  particular  city  may  be  said  to  be 
the  only  specimen  of  its  kind.  If  one  is  blotted  out 
the  type  is  lost ;  there  is  no  duplicate.  Athens  and 
Sparta,  Rome  and  Carthage,  Florence  and  Venice,  were 
rivals  which  could  never  take  the  place  of  one  another. 
Most  assuredly  Jerusalem  stood  alone,  stamped  with 
a  character  which  no  other  place  in  the  world  ap- 
proached, and  charged  with  a  perfectly  unique  mission. 
For  such  a  city  to  vanish  off  the  face  of  the  earth  was 
the  impoverishment  of  the  world  in  the  loss  of  what 
no  nation  in  all  the  four  continents  could  ever  supply. 

In  saying  this  we  must  be  careful  to  avoid  the 
anachronism  of  reading  into  the  present  situation  the 
after  history  of  the  sacred  city  and  the  character  therein 
evolved.  In  the  days  before  the  exile  Jerusalem  was 
not  the  holy  place  that  Ezra  and  Nehemiah  sub- 
sequently laboured  to  make  of  it.  Still  looking  back 
across  the  centuries  we  can  see  what  perhaps  the 
contemporaries  could  not  discover,  that  the  peculiar 
destiny  of  Jerusalem  was  already  shaping  itself  in  his- 
tory. At  the  time,  to  the  patriotic  devotion  of  the 
mourning  Jews,  she  was  their  old  home,  the  happy 
dwelling-place  of  their  childhood,  the  shrine  of  their 
fathers'  sepulchres — Nehemiah's  thought  about  the  city 
even   at  a   later  date ;  Mn  a  word,  the  ancient  centre 


THE   THEME  93 


of  national  life  and  union,  strength  and  glory.  But 
another  and  a  higher  meaning  was  beginning  to  gather 
about  the  word  Jerusalem,  a  meaning  which  has  come 
in  course  of  time  to  give  this  city  a  place  quite 
solitary  and  unrivalled  in  all  history.  Jerusalem  is 
now  revered  as  the  religious  centre  of  the  world's 
life.  Even  in  this  early  age  she  was  beginning  to 
earn  her  lofty  character.  Josiah's  reformation  had  so 
far  succeeded  that  the  temple  of  Solomon  had  been 
pronounced  the  centre  of  the  worship  of  Jehovah. 
Then  these  elegies  bear  witness  to  the  importance  of 
the  national  festivals,  which  were  all  held  at  the  capital, 
and  which  were  all  of  a  religious  nature.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  conjecture  what  would  have  been  the  course 
of  the  religious  history  of  the  world  if  Jerusalem  had 
been  blotted  out  for  ever  at  this  period  of  the  life  of 
the  city.  More  than  five  centuries  later  Jesus  Christ 
declared  that  the  time  had  come  when  neither  at  the 
Samaritan  mountain  nor  at  Jerusalem  should  men 
worship  the  Father,  because  God  is  spirit  and  can  only 
be  worshipped  in  spirit  and  in  truth.  Thus  the  possi- 
bility of  this  spiritual  worship  which  was  independent 
of  the  sanctity  of  any  place  was  a  question  of  time. 
The  time  for  it  had  only  just  arrived  when  our  Lord 
made  His  great  declaration.  Of  course  the  calendar 
could  not  rule  this  matter ;  it  was  not  essentially  an 
affair  of  dates.  But  the  world  required  all  those  inter- 
vening ages  to  ripen  into  fitness  for  the  lofty  act  of 
purely  spiritual  worship ;  and  even  then  the  great 
advance  was  not  made  by  a  process  of  simple  develop- 
ment. It  was  necessary  for  Christ  to  come,  both  to 
reveal  the  higher  nature  of  worship  by  revealing  the 
higher  nature  of  Him  who  was  the  object  of  worship, 
and  also  to  bestow  the  spiritual  grace  through  which 


94  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

men  and  women  could  practise  the  true  worship. 
Therefore  these  very  words  of  our  Lord  which  proclaim 
the  absolute  spirituality  of  worship  for  those  who  have 
attained  to  His  teaching  most  plainly  imply  that  such 
worship  must  have  been  beyond  the  reach  of  average 
people,  at  all  events,  in  earlier  ages.  Jerusalem,  then, 
was  needed  to  serve  as  the  cradle  of  the  religion 
revealed  through  her  prophets.  When  her  wings  had 
grown  rehgion  could  dispense  with  the  nest ;  but  in 
her  unfledged  condition  the  destruction  of  the  local 
shelter  threatened  the  death  of  the  broodling. 

There  is  a  hopeful  side  to  these  reflections.  A  city 
with  such  a  character  may  be  said  to  bear  the  seeds  of 
her  own  revival.  Her  individuality  has  that  within 
it  which  fights  against  extinction.  To  put  it  another 
way,  the  idea  of  the  city  is  too  marked  and  too  attrac- 
tive for  its  privileged  custodians  to  let  it  fade  out  of 
their  minds,  or  to  rest  satisfied  without  attempting  once 
more  to  have  it  realised  in  visible  form.  Carthage 
might  perish ;  for  Carthage  had  few  graces  wherewith 
to  stir  the  enthusiasm  of  her  citizens.  Rome,  on  the 
other  hand,  had  developed  a  character  and  a  corre- 
sponding destiny  of  her  own  ;  and  therefore  she  could 
not  be  blotted  out  by  savage  Huns  or  Vandal  hosts. 
The  genius  for  government,  unapproached  by  any  other 
city,  could  not  be  suppressed  by  the  worst  ravages  of 
the  invader.  Even  when  political  supremacy  had  passed 
away  in  consequence  of  the  vices  and  weakness  of  the 
degenerate  citizens,  the  power  that  had  ruled  the  world 
simply  took  another  shape  and  ruled  the  Church,  the 
supremacy  of  Rome  in  the  papacy  succeeding  to  the 
supremacy  of  Rome  in  the  empire.  So  was  it  with 
Jerusalem.  There  was  immortality  in  this  wonderful 
city. 


THE   THEME  95 


We  may  look  at  the  subject  from  two  points  of  view. 
First,  faith  in  God  encourages  the  hope  that  such  a 
destiny  as  is  here  foreshadowed  should  not  be  allowed 
to  fail.  So  felt  the  prophets  who  were  permitted  to 
read  the  counsels  of  God  by  inspired  insight  into  the 
eternal  principles  of  His  nature.  These  men  were  sure 
that  Jerusalem  must  rise  again  from  her  ashes  because 
they  knew  for  a  certainty  that  her  Lord  would  not  let 
His  purposes  concerning  her  be  frustrated. 

Then  even  with  the  limited  vision  which  is  all  that 
can  be  attained  from  the  lower  platform  of  historical 
criticism,  we  may  see  that  Jerusalem  had  acquired  such 
an  immortal  place  in  the  estimation  of  the  Jews,  that 
the  people  must  have  clung  to  the  idea  of  a  restora- 
tion till  it  was  realised.  To  say  this  is  to  shew  that 
the  realisation  could  not  but  be  accomplished.  Such 
passionate  regrets  as  those  of  the  Lamentations  are 
seeds  of  hope. 

May  we  go  one  step  further  ?  Is  not  every  true  and 
deep  regret  a  prophecy  of  restoration  ?  There  is  an 
irrecoverable  past,  it  must  be  owned.  That  is  to  say, 
the  days  that  are  gone  cannot  return,  nor  can  deeds 
once  done  ever  be  undone ;  the  future  will  never  be  an 
exact  repetition  of  the  past.  But  all  this  does  not 
forbid  the  assurance  that  there  may  be  genuine  re- 
storation. Jerusalem  restored  was  very  unlike  the 
city  whose  fate  the  elegist  bewailed  ;  nevertheless  she 
was  restored,  and  that  with  her  essential  characteristics 
more  pronounced  than  ever.  Henceforth  she  was  to 
be  most  completely  what  her  earlier  history  had  only 
faintly  adumbrated — the  typical  seat  of  religion.  Thus, 
though  the  Lamentations  are  not  at  all  cheering  or 
prophetic  in  tone,  or  even  in  intention,  but  the  very 
reverse,    wholly    mournful    and    despondent,    we    may 


96  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

Still  detect,  in  the  very  intensity  and  persistence  of  the 
sorrow  they  portray,  gleams  of  hope  for  better  days. 
There  is  no  hope  in  stolid  indifference;  it  is  in  the 
penitent's  tears  that  we  discover  the  prospect  of  his 
amendment.  Repentance  weeps  for  the  past,  but  at 
the  same  time  it  looks  forward  with  a  changed  mind 
that  is  the  promise  of  better  things  to  come.  Why 
should  not  we  apply  these  ideas  that  spring  from  a 
consideration  of  the  five  Hebrew  elegies  to  other 
elegies — to  the  dirges  that  mourn  the  loved  and  dead  ? 
If  we  could  wilHngly  let  the  departed  drop  out  of 
thought  we  might  have  little  ground  for  believing  we 
should  ever  see  them  again.  But  sorrow  for  the  dead 
immortalises  them  in  memory.  In  a  materialistic  view 
of  the  universe  that  might  mean  nothing  but  the  per- 
petuity of  a  sentiment.  But  then  it  may  by  itself  help 
us  to  perceive  the  superficiality,  the  utter  falseness  of 
such  a  view.  Thus  Tennyson  sees  the  answer  to  the 
crushing  doubts  of  materialism  and  the  assurance  of 
immortality  for  the  departed  in  the  strength  of  the  love 
with  which  they  are  cherished  : 

"What  is  it  all  if  we  all  of  us  end  but  in  being  our  own  corpse 

coffins  at  last, 
Swallowed  in  Vastness,  lost  in  Silence,  drowned  in  the  deeps  of  a 

meaningless  Past ! 
What  but  a  murmur  of  gnats  in  the  gloom,  or  a  moment's  anger 

of  bees  in  their  hive  ? 

Peace,  let  it  be !   for  I  loved  him,  and  love  him  for  ever.     The 
dead  are  not  dead,  but  alive." 


CHAPTER    IV 

DESOLATION 


THE  first  elegy  is  devoted  to  moving  pictures  of 
the  desolation  of  Jerusalem  and  the  sufferings  of 
her  people.  It  dwells  upon  these  disasters  themselves, 
with  fewer  references  to  the  causes  of  them  or  the  hope 
of  any  remedy  than  are  to  be  found  in  the  subsequent 
poems,  simply  to  express  the  misery  of  the  whole  story. 
Thus  it  is  in  the  truest  sense  of  the  word  a  "  Lamen- 
tation." It  naturally  divides  itself  into  two  parts — one 
with  the  poet  speaking  in  his  own  person,^  the  other 
representing  the  deserted  eity  herself  appeaUng  to 
passing  strangers  and  neighbouring  nations,  and  lastly 
to  God,  to  take  note  of  her  woes.'^ 

The  poem  opens  with  a  very  beautiful  passage 
in  which  we  have  a  comparison  of  Jerusalem  to  a 
widow  bereft  of  her  children,  sitting  solitary  in  the 
night,  weeping  sorely.  It  would  not  be  just  to  read 
into  the  image  of  widowhood  ideas  collected  from 
utterances  of  the  prophets  about  the  wedded  union  of 
Israel  and  her  Lord ;  we  have  no  hint  of  anything 
of  the  sort  here.  Apparently  the  image  is  selected  in 
order  to  express  the  more  vividly  the  utter  lonesome- 
ness  of  the  city.     It  is  clear  that  the   attribute  "soli- 


97 


98  THE  LAMENTA  TIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


tary  "  has  no  bearing  on  the  external  relations  of 
Jerusalem — her  isolation  among  the  Syrian  hills,  or  the 
desertion  of  her  allies,  mentioned  a  little  later ;  ^  it 
points  to  a  more  ghostly  solitude,  streets  without  traffic, 
tenantless  houses.  The  widow  is  solitary  because  she 
has  been  robbed  of  her  children.  And  in  this,  her 
desolation,  she  sits.  The  attitude,  so  simple  and  natural 
and  easy  under  ordinary  circumstances,  here  suggests 
a  settled  continuance  of  wretchedness ;  it  is  helpless 
and  hopeless.  The  first  wild  agony  of  the  severance 
of  the  closest  natural  ties  has  passed,  and  with  it  the 
stimulus  of  conflict ;  now  there  has  supervened  the 
dull  monotony  of  despair.  This  is  the  lowest  depth 
of  misery,  because  it  allows  leisure  when  leisure  is  least 
welcome,  because  it  gives  the  reins  to  the  imagination  to 
roam  over  regions  of  heart-rending  memory  or  sombre 
apprehension,  above  all  because  there  is  nothing  to 
be  done,  so  that  the  whole  range  of  consciousness  is 
abandoned  to  pain.  Many  a  sufferer  has  been  saved 
by  the  healing  ministry  of  active  duties,  sometimes 
resented  as  an  intrusion.  It  is  a  fearful  thing  simply 
to  sit  in  sorrow. 

The  mourner  sits  in  the  night,  while  the  world 
around  lies  in  the  peace  of  sleep.  The  darkness  has 
fallen,  yet  she  does  not  stir,  for  day  and  night  are 
alike  to  her — both  dark.  She  is  statuesque  in  sorrow, 
petrified  by  pain,  and  yet  unhappily  not  dead ;  be- 
numbed, but  alive  in  every  sensitive  fibre  of  her  being 
and  terribly  awake.  In  this  dread  night  of  misery  her 
one  occupation  is  weeping.  The  mourner  knows  how 
the  hidden  fountains  of  tears  which  have  been  sealed 
to  the  world  for  the  day   will  break   out  in  the  silent 


i.  1-7.]  DESOLATION  99 

solitude  of  night ;  then  the  bravest  will  "  wet  his  couch 
with  his  tears."  The  forlorn  woman  ''weepeth  5or^"; 
to  use  the  expressive  Hebraism,  "  weeping  she  weep- 
eth."  "  Her  tears  are  on  her  cheeks  " ;  they  are  con- 
tinually flowing ;  she  has  no  thought  of  drying  them ; 
there  is  no  one  else  to  wipe  them  away.  This  is  not 
the  frantic  torrent  of  youthful  tears,  soon  to  be  for- 
gotten in  sudden  sunshine,  like  a  spring  shower;  it 
is  the  dreary  winter  rain,  falling  more  silently,  but 
from  leaden  clouds  that  never  break.  The  Hebrew 
poet's  picture  is  illustrated  with  singular  aptness  by  a 
Roman  coin,  struck  off  in  commemoration  of  the  de- 
struction of  Jerusalem  by  the  army  of  Titus,  which 
represents  a  woman  seated  under  a  palm  tree  with  the 
legend  Jiidcea  capta.  Is  it  too  much  to  imagine  that 
some  Greek  artist  attached  to  the  court  of  Vespasian 
may  have  borrowed  the  idea  for  the  coin  from  the 
Septuagint  version  of  this  very  passage  ? 

The  woe  of  Jerusalem  is  intensified  by  reason  of  its 
contrast  with  the  previous  splendour  of  the  proud  city. 
She  had  not  always  appeared  as  a  lonely  widow. 
Formerly  she  had  held  a  high  place  among  the  neigh- 
bouring nations — for  did  she  not  cherish  memories  of 
the  great  days  of  her  shepherd  king  and  Solomon  the 
magnificent  ?  Then  she  ruled  provinces ;  now  she  is 
herself  tributary.  She  had  lovers  in  the  old  times— 
a  fact  which  points  to  faults  of  character  not  further 
pursued  at  present.  How  opposite  is  the  utterly  deserted 
state  into  which  she  is  now  sunk !  This  thought  of  a 
tremendous  fall  gives  the  greatest  force  to  the  portrait. 
It  is  Rembrandtesque ;  the  black  shadows  on  the  fore- 
ground are  the  deeper  because  they  stand  sharply  out 
against  the  brilliant  radiance  that  streams  in  from  the 
sunset  of  the  past.     The  pitiableness  of  the  comfortless 


THE   LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


present  lies  in  this,  that  there  had  been  lovers  whose 
consolations  would  now  have  been  a  solace ;  the  bitter- 
ness of  the  enmity  now  experienced  is  its  having  been 
distilled  from  the  dregs  of  poisoned  friendship.  Against 
the  protests  of  her  faithful  prophets  Jerusalem  had 
courted  alliance  with  her  heathen  neighbours,  only  to 
be  cruelly  deserted  in  her  hour  of  need.  It  is  the 
old  story  of  friendship  with  the  world,  keenly  accentu- 
ated in  the  life  of  Israel,  because  this  favoured  people 
had  already  seen  glimpses  of  a  rich,  rare  privilege, 
the  friendship  of  Heaven.  This  is  the  irony  of  the 
situation ;  it  is  the  tragic  irony  of  all  Hebrew  history. 
Why  were  these  people  so  blindly  infatuated  that  they 
would  be  perpetually  forsaking  the  living  waters,  and 
hewing  out  to  themselves  broken  cisterns  that  could 
hold  no  water?  The  question  is  only  surpassed  by 
that  of  the  similar  folly  on  the  part  of  those  of  us  who 
follow  their  example  in  spite  of  the  warning  their  fate 
affords,  failing  to  see  that  true  friendship  is  too  exact- 
ing for  ties  spun  from  mere  convenience  or  superficial 
pleasantness  to  bear  the  strain  of  its  more  serious 
claims. 

Passing  on  from  the  poetic  image  to  a  more  direct 
view  of  the  drear  facts  of  the  case,  the  author  describes 
the  hardships  of  the  fugitives — people  who  had  fled  to 
Egypt,  the  retreat  of  Jeremiah  and  his  companions. 
This  must  be  the  bearing  of  the  passage  which  our 
translators  render — 

"Judah  is  gone  into  captivity  because  of  affliction,  and  because 
of  great  servitude." 

For  if  the  topic  were  the  captivity  at  Babylon  it  would 
be  difficult  to  see  how  "  affliction  "  and  "  great  servitude  " 
could  be   treated  as  the  causes  of  that  disaster ;  were 


1-7.]  DESOLATION 


they  not  rather  its  effects  ?  Two  solutions  of  this 
difficulty  have  been  proposed.  It  has  been  suggested 
that  the  captivity  is  here  presented  as  a  consequence 
of  the  misconduct  of  the  Jews  in  oppressing  peoples 
subject  to  them.  But  the  abstract  words  will  not 
readily  bear  any  such  meaning  ;  we  should  have  ex- 
pected some  more  explicit  charge.  Then  it  has  been 
proposed  to  read  the  words  "  out  of  affliction/'  etc.,  in 
place  of  the  phrase  "  because  of  affliction,"  etc.,  as 
though  in  escaping  from  trouble  at  home  the  Jews  had 
only  passed  into  a  new  misfortune  abroad.  This  is  not 
so  simple  an  explanation  of  the  poet's  language  as  that 
at  which  we  arrive  by  the  perfectly  legitimate  sub- 
stitution of  the  word  "  exile  "  for  "  captivity."  It  may 
seem  strange  that  the  statement  should  be  affirmed  of 
"Judah,"  as  though  the  whole  nation  had  escaped  to 
Egypt ;  but  it  would  be  equally  inexact  to  say  that 
"  Judah  "  was  carried  captive  to  Babylon,  seeing  that 
only  a  selection  from  the  upper  classes  was  deported, 
while  the  majority  of  the  people  was  probably  left  in 
the  land.  But  so  many  of  the  Jews,  especially  those 
best  known  to  the  poet,  were  in  voluntary  exile,  that  ic 
was  quite  natural  for  him  to  regard  them  as  virtually 
the  nation.  Now  upon  these  refugees  three  troubles 
fall.  First,  the  asylum  is  a  heathen  country,  abominable 
to  pious  Israelites.  Second,  even  here  the  fugitives 
have  no  rest ;  they  are  not  allowed  to  settle  down ;  they 
are  perpetually  molested.  Third,  on  the  way  thither 
they  are  harassed  by  the  enemy.  They  are  overtaken 
by  pursuers  "  within  the  straits,"  a  statement  which 
may  be  read  literally  ;  bands  of  Chaldaeans  would  hover 
about  the  mountains,  ready  to  pounce  upon  the  dis- 
organised groups  of  fugitives  as  they  made  their  way 
through    the  narrow    defiles    that  led  out   of  the    hill 


I02  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

country  to  the  southern  plains.  But  the  phrase  is  a 
familiar  Hebraism  for  difficulties  generally.  No  doubt 
it  was  true  of  the  Jews  in  this  larger  sense  that  their 
opponents  took  advantage  of  their  straitened  circum- 
stances to  vex  them  in  every  possible  way.  This  is 
just  in  accordance  with  the  common  experience  of 
mankind  all  the  world  over.  But  while  the  fact  of  the 
experience  is  obvious,  the  inference  to  which  it  points 
hke  an  arrow  is  obstinately  eluded.  Thus  a  commercial 
man  in  financial  straits  loses  his  credit  at  the  very 
moment  when  he  most  needs  it.  We  cannot  say  that 
this  is  a  proof  of  spite,  or  even  a  sign  of  cynical  indiffer- 
ence ;  because  the  needy  person  is  really  most  untrust- 
worthy, though  his  moral  integrity  may  be  unshaken, 
seeing  that  his  circumstances  make  it  probable  that  he 
will  be  unable  to  fulfil  his  obligations.  But  now  it  is 
the  deeper  significance  of  this  fact  that  is  so  persistently 
ignored.  There  is  perceptible  at  times  in  nature  a  law 
of  compensation  by  the  operation  of  which  misfortune 
is  mitigated  ;  but  that  merciful  law  is  frequently  thwarted 
by  the  overbearing  influence  of  the  terrible  law  of  the 
"  survival  of  the  fittest,"  the  gospel  of  the  fortunate, 
but  the  death-knell  for  all  failures.  If  this  is  so  in 
nature,  much  more  does  it  obtain  in  human  society  so 
long  as  selfish  greed  is  unchecked  by  higher  principles. 
Then  the  world,  the  Godless  world,  can  be  no  asylum 
for  the  miserable  and  unfortunate,  because  it  will  be 
hard  upon  them  in  exact  proportion  to  the  extremity 
of  their  necessities.  Moreover,  the  perception  that  this 
bitter  truth  is  not  a  fruit  of  temporary  passions  which 
may  be  restrained  by  education,  but  the  outcome  of 
certain  persistent  principles  which  cannot  be  set  aside 
while  society  retains  its  present  constitution,  gives  to  it 
the  adamantine  strength  of  destiny. 


i.  1-7.]  DESOLATION  103 

Coming  nearer  to  the  city  in  his  mental  vision,  the 
poet  next  bewails  deserted  roads  ;  **  those  ways  of  Zion  " 
up  which  the  holiday  folks  used  to  troop,  clad  in  gay 
garments,  with  songs  of  rejoicing,  are  left  so  lonely 
that  it  seems  as  though  they  themselves  must  be  mourn- 
ing. It  is  in  keeping  with  the  imagery  of  these  poems 
which  personify  the  city,  to  endow  the  very  roads 
with  fancied  consciousness.  This  is  a  natural  result 
of  intense  emotion,  and  therefore  a  witness  to  its 
very  intensity.  It  seems  as  though  the  very  earth 
must  share  in  the  feelings  of  the  man  whose  heart  is 
stirred  to  its  depths ;  as  though  all  things  must  be  filled 
with  the  passion  the  waves  of  which  flow  out  to  the 
horizon  of  his  consciousness,  till  the  very  stones  cry 
out. 

As  he  approaches  the  city,  the  poet  is  struck  with 
a  strange,  sad  sight.  There  are  no  people  about  the 
gates  ;  yet  here,  if  anywhere,  we  should  expect  to  meet 
not  only  travellers  passing  through,  but  also  groups  of 
men,  merchants  at  their  traffic,  arbitrators  settling  dis- 
putes, friends  exchanging  confidences,  idlers  lounging 
about  and  chewing  the  cud  of  the  latest  gossip,  beggars 
whining  for  alms  ;  for  by  the  gates  are  markets,  alfresco 
tribunals,  open  spaces  for  public  meetings.  Formerly 
the  life  of  the  city  was  here  concentrated  ;  now  no  trace 
of  life  is  to  be  seen  even  at  these  social  ganglia.  The 
desertion  and  silence  of  the  gateways  gives  a  shock  of 
distress  to  the  visitor  on  entering  the  ruined  city. 
More  disappointments  await  him  within  the  walls.  Still 
keeping  in  mind  the  idea  of  the  national  festivals,  and 
accompanying  the  course  of  them  in  imagination,  the 
poet  goes  up  to  the  temple.  No  services  are  proceed- 
ing ;  'any  priests  who  may  be  found  still  haunting  the 
precincts  of  the  charred  ruins  can  only  sigh  over  their 


104  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

enforced  idleness ;  the  girl-choristers  whose  voices 
would  ring  through  the  porticoes  in  the  old  times,  are 
silent  and  desolate,  for  their  mother,  Jerusalem,  is  herself 
"  in  bitterness." 

In  this  part  of  the  elegy  our  attention  is  directed  to 
the  cessation  of  the  happy  national  assemblies  with 
their  accompaniment  of  public  worship  in  songs  of  praise 
for  harvest  and  vintage  and  in  the  awful  symbolism  of 
the  altar.  The  name  "  Zion  "  was  associated  with  two 
things,  festivity  and  worship.  It  was  a  happy  privilege 
for  Israel  to  have  had  the  inspired  insight  as  well  as  the 
courage  of  faith  to  realise  the  conjunction.  Even  v.'ith 
the  fuller  light  and  larger  liberty  of  Christianity  it  is 
rarely  acknowledged  among  us.  Our  services  have  too 
much  of  the  funeral  dirge  about  them.  The  devout 
Israelite  reserved  his  dirge  for  the  death  of  his  worship. 
It  does  not  seem  to  have  occurred  to  the  poet  that 
anybody  could  come  to  regard  worship  as  an  irksome 
duty  from  which  he  would  gladly  be  liberated.  Are  we, 
then,  to  suppose  that  the  Israelites  who  practised  the 
crude  cult  that  was  prevalent  before  the  Exile,  even 
among  the  true  servants  of  Jehovah,  were  indeed  more 
devout  than  Christians  who  enjoy  the  privileges  of  their 
richer  revelation  ?  Scarcely  so  ;  for  it  must  be  remem- 
bered that  we  are  called  to  a  more  spiritual  and  there- 
fore a  more  difficult  worship.  Inward  sincerity  is  here 
of  supreme  importance ;  if  this  is  missing  there  is  no 
worship,  and  without  it  the  miserable  unreality  becomes 
inexpressibly  wearisome.  No  doubt  it  is  the  failure  to 
reach  the  rare .  altitude  of  its  lofty  ideal  that  makes 
Christian  worship  to  appear  in  the  eyes  of  many  to  be  a 
melancholy  performance.  But  this  explanation  should 
not  be  permitted  to  obscure  the  fact  that  true,  living, 
spiritual   worship  must  be   a    very   delightful   exercise 


i.  1-7.]  DESOLATION  105 

of  the  soul.  Perhaps  one  reason  why  this  truth  is 
not  sufficiently  appreciated  may  be  found  in  the  very 
facility  with  which  the  outward  means  of  worship  are 
presented  to  us.  People  who  are  seldom  out  of  the 
sound  of  church  bells  are  inclined  to  grow  deaf  to 
their  significance.  The  Roman  Christian  hunted  in  the 
catacombs,  the  Waldensian  hiding  in  his  mountain 
cave,  the  Covenanter  meeting  his  fellow  members  of 
the  kirk  in  a  remote  highland  glen,  the  backwoodsman 
walking  fifty  miles  to  attend  Divine  service  once  in  six 
months,  are  led  by  difficulty  and  deprivation  to  perceive 
the  value  of  public  worship  in  a  degree  which  is  sur- 
prising to  people  among  whom  it  is  merely  an  incident 
of  every-day  life.  When  Zion  was  in  ashes  the  memory 
of  her  festivals  was  encircled  with  a  halo  of  regret. 

In  accordance  with  the  principle  of  construction 
which  he  follows  throughout — the  heightening  of  the 
effect  of  the  picture  by  presenting  a  succession  of  con- 
trasts— the  poet  next  sets  the  prosperity  of  the  enemies 
of  Jerusalem  in  close  juxtaposition  to  the  misery  of  those 
of  her  people  in  whom  it  is  most  pitiable  and  startling, 
the  children  and  the  princes.  Men  with  any  heart  in 
them  would  wish  above  all  things  that  the  innocent 
young  members  of  their  families  should  be  spared ;  yet 
the  captives  carried  off  to  Babylon  consisted  principally 
of  boys  and  girls  torn  from  their  homes,  conveyed  hun- 
dreds of  miles  across  the  desert,  many  of  them  dragged 
down  to  hideous  degradation  by  the  vices  that  luxuriated 
in  the  corrupt  empire  of  the  Euphrates.  The  other 
class  of  victims  specially  commented  on  is  that  of  the 
princes..  Not  only  is  the  present  humiliation  of  the 
nobility  in  sharp  contrast  to  their  former  elevation  of 
rank,  and  therefore  their  sufferings  the  more  acute,  but 
it  is  also  to  be  observed  that  their  old  position  of  leader- 


io6  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

ship  has  been  completely  reversed.  The  reference  must 
be  to  Zedekiah  and  his  courtiers.^  These  proud  princes 
who  formerly  exercised  command  over  the  multitude 
have  become  a  shameful  flock  of  fugitives.  In  the 
expressive  image  of  the  poet,  they  are  compared  to 
"  harts  that  find  no  pasture  " ;  they  are  like  fleet  wild 
deer,  so  cowed  by  hunger  that  they  meekly  permit 
themselves  to  be  driven  by  their  enemies  just  as  if 
they  were  a  herd  of  tame  cattle. 

In  the  middle  of  this  comparison  between  the  success 
of  the  conquerors  and  the  fate  of  their  victims  the  poet 
inserts  a  pregnant  sentence  which  suddenly  carries  us 
off  to  regions  of  far  more  profound  reflection,  touching 
upon  the  two  sources  of  the  ruin  of  Jerusalem  that  lie 
behind  the  visible  hand  of  Nebuchadnezzar  and  his 
hosts,  her  own  sin  and  the  consequent  wrath  of  her 
God.  It  flashes  out  as  a  momentary  thought,  and  then 
retires  with  equal  suddenness,  permitting  the  previous 
current  of  reflections  to  be  resumed  as  though  unaffected 
by  the  startling  interruption.  This  thought  will  re- 
appear, however,  with  increasing  fulness,  shewing  that 
it  is  always  present  to  the  mind  of  the  poet  and  ready 
to  come  to  the  surface  at  any  moment,  even  when  it 
would  seem  to  be  inappropriate,  although  it  can  never 
be  really  inappropriate,  because  it  is  the  key  to  the 
mystery  of  the  whole  tragedy. 

Lastly,  while  the  sense  of  a  strong  contrast  is  excited 
objectively  by  a  comparison  of  the  placid  security  of 
the  invaders  with  the  degradation  of  the  fugitives, 
subjectively  it  is  most  vividly  realised  by  the  sufferers 
themselves  when  they  call  to  mind  their  former  happi- 
ness. Jerusalem  is  supposed  to  fall  into  a  reverie  in 
which  she  follows  the  recollection  of  the  whole  series 
'  Jer.  xxxix.  4,  5. 


i.  1-7.]  DESOLATION  107 

of  her  pleasant  experiences  from  far-off  bygone  times 
through  all  the  succeeding  ages  down  to  the  present 
era  of  calamities.  This  is  to  indulge  in  the  pains  of 
memory — pains  which  are  decidedly  more  acute  than 
the  corresponding  pleasures  celebrated  by  Samuel 
Rogers.  These  pains  are  doubly  intense  owing  to 
the  inevitable  fact  that  the  contrast  is  unnaturally 
strained.  Viewed  in  the  softened  lights  of  memory, 
the  past  is  strangely  simplified,  its  mixed  character 
is  forgotten,  and  many  of  its  unpleasant  features 
are  smoothed  out,  so  that  an  idyllic  charm  hovers 
over  the  dream,  and  lends  it  an  unearthly  beauty.  This 
is  why  so  many  people  foolishly  damp  the  hopes  of 
children,  who,  if  they  are  healthily  constituted,  ought 
to  be  anticipating  the  future  with  eagerness,  by  solemnly 
exhorting  them  to  make  hay  while  the  sun  shines,  with 
the  gloomy  warning  that  the  sunny  season  must  soon 
pass.  Their  application  of  the  motto  carpe  diem  is  not 
only  pagan  in  spirit ;  it  is  founded  on  an  illusion. 
Happily  there  is  some  unreality  about  most  of  our 
yearning  regrets  for  the  days  that  have  gone.  That 
sweet,  fair  past  was  not  so  radiant  as  its  effigy  in  the 
dreamland  of  memory  now  appears  to  be ;  nor  is  the 
hard  present  so  free  from  mitigating  circumstances  as 
we  suppose.  And  yet,  when  all  is  said,  we  cannot  find 
the  consolation  we  hunger  after  in  hours  of  darkness 
among  bare  conclusions  of  common-sense.  The  grave 
is  not  an  illusion,  at  least  when  only  viewed  in  the 
light  of  the  past — though  even  this  chill,  earthy  reahty 
begins  to  melt  into  a  shadow  immediately  the  light  of 
the  eternal  future  falls  upon  it.  The  melancholy  that 
laments  the  lost  past  can  only  be  perfectly  mastered 
by  that  Christian  grace,  the  hope  which  presses  forward 
to  a  better  future. 


CHAPTER    V 

SIN    AND    SUFFERING 
i.   8-1 1 

THE  doctrinaire  rigour  of  Judaism  in  its  uncom- 
promising association  of  moral  and  physical  evils 
has  led  to  an  unreasonable  disregard  for  the  solid 
truth  which  lies  behind  this  mistake.  It  can  scarcely 
be  said  that  men  are  now  perplexed  by  the  problem 
that  inspired  the  Book  of  Job.  The  fall  of  the  tower 
of  Siloam  or  the  blindness  of  a  man  from  his  birth 
would  not  start  among  us  the  vexatious  questions 
which  were  raised  in  the  days  of  our  Lord.  We  have 
not  accepted  the  Jewish  theory  that  the  punishment  of 
sin  always  overtakes  the  sinner  in  this  life,  much  less 
have  we  assented  to  the  by  no  means  necessary  corollary 
that  all  calamities  are  the  direct  penalties  of  the  mis- 
conduct of  the  sufferers,  and  therefore  sure  signs  of 
guilt.  The  modern  tendency  is  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion ;  it  goes  to  ignore  the  existence  of  any  connection 
whatever  between  the  course  of  the  universe  and  human 
conduct.  No  interference  with  the  uniformity  of  the 
laws  of  nature  for  retributive  or  disciplinary  purposes 
can  be  admitted.  The  machinery  runs  on  in  its  grooves 
never  deflected  by  any  regard  for  our  good  or  bad 
deserts.  If  we  dash  ourselves  against  its  wheels  they 
will  tear  us  to  pieces,  grind  us  to  powder ;  and  we  may 
reasonably  consider  this  treatment  to  be  the  natural 
io8 


i.  8-II.]  SIN  AND  SUFFERING  109 

punishment  of  our  folly.  But  here  we  are  not  beyond 
physical  causation,  and  the  drift  of  thought  is  towards 
holding  the  belief  in  anything  more  to  be  a  simple 
survival  from  primitive  anthropomorphic  ideas  of  nature, 
a  pure  superstition.  Is  it  a  pure  superstition  ?  It  is 
time  we  turned  to  another  side  of  the  question. 

Every  strong  conviction  that  has  obtained  wide  re- 
cognition, however  erroneous  and  mischievous  it  may 
be,  can  be  traced  back  to  the  abuse  of  some  solid  truth. 
It  is  not  the  case  that  the  universe  is  constructed  with- 
out any  regard  for  moral  laws.  Even  the  natural 
punishment  of  the  violation  of  natural  laws  contains 
a  certain  ethical  element.  Other  considerations  apart, 
clearly  it  is  wrong  to  injure  one's  health  or  endanger 
one's  life  by  rushing  headlong  against  the  constituted 
order  of  the  universe ;  therefore  the  consequences  of 
such  conduct  may  be  taken  as  signs  of  its  condemna- 
tion. In  the  case  of  the  sufferings  of  the  Jews  lamented 
by  our  poet  the  calamities  were  not  primarily  of  a 
physical  origin  ;  they  grew  out  of  human  acts — the 
accompaniments  of  the  Chaldaean  invasion.  When  we 
come  to  the  evolution  of  history  we  are  introduced  to 
a  whole  world  of  moral  forces  that  are  not  at  work  in 
the  material  universe.  Nebuchadnezzar  did  not  know 
that  he  was  the  instrument  of  a  Higher  Power  for  the 
chastisement  of  Israel ;  but  the  corruptions  of  the  Jews, 
so  ruthlessly  exposed  by  their  prophets,  had  undermined 
the  national  vigour  which  is  the  chief  safeguard  of  a 
state,  as  surely  as  at  a  later  time  the  corruptions  of 
Rome  opened  her  gates  to  devastating  hosts  of  Goths 
and  Huns.  May  we  not  go  further,  and,  passing  beyond 
the  region  of  common;  observation,  discover  richer  in- 
dications of  the  ethical  meanings  of  events  in  the  appli- 
cation to  them  of  a  real  faith  in  God  ?      It  was  his 


THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


profound  theism  that  lay  at  the  base  of  the  Jew's 
conception  of  temporal  retribution,  crude,  hard,  and 
narrow  as  this  was.  If  we  believe  that  God  is  supreme 
over  nature  and  history  as  well  as  over  individual  lives, 
we  must  conclude  that  He  will  use  every  province  of 
His  vast  dominion  so  as  to  further  His  righteous 
purposes.  If  the  same  Spirit  reigns  throughout  there 
must  be  a  certain  harmony  between  all  parts  of  His 
government.  The  mistake  of  the  Jew  was  his  claim 
to  interpret  the  details  of  this  Divine  administration 
with  a  sole  regard  for  the  minute  fraction  of  the  universe 
that  came  under  his  own  eyes,  with  blank  indifference 
to  the  vast  realm  of  facts  and  principles  of  which  he 
could  know  nothing.  His  idea  of  Providence  was  too 
shortsighted,  too  parochial,  in  every  respect  too  small ; 
yet  it  was  true  in  so  far  as  it  registered  the  conviction 
that  there  must  be  an  ethical  character  in  the  govern- 
ment of  the  world  by  a  righteous  God,  that  the  divinely 
ordered  course  of  events  cannot  be  out  of  all  relation  to 
conduct. 

It  does  not  fall  in  with  the  plan  of  the  Lamentations 
.  for  this  subject  to  be  treated  so  fully  in  these  poems 
as  it  is  in  the  stirring  exhortations  of  the  great  prophets. 
Yet  it  comes  to  the  surface  repeatedly.  In  the  fifth 
verse  of  the  first  elegy  the  poet  attributes  the  affliction 
of  Zion  to  "  the  multitude  of  her  transgressions  "  ;  and 
he  introduces  the  eighth  verse  with  the  clear  declara- 
tion— 

"Jerusalem  hath  grievously  sinned ;  therefore  she  has  become  an 
unclean  thing." 

The  powerful  |  Hebrew  idiom  according  to  which  the 
cognate  substance  follows  the  verb  is  here  employed. 
Rendered  literally,  the  opening  phrase  is,  "sinned  sin." 
The  experience  of  the  chastisement  leads  to  a  keen 


i.8-ii.]  SIN  AND  SUFFERING  iii 

perception  of  the  guilt  that  precedes  it.  This  is  more 
than  a  consequence  of  the  application  of  the  accepted 
doctrine  of  the  connection  of  sin  with  suffering  to  a 
particular  case.  No  intellectual  theory  is  strong  enough 
by  itself  to  awaken  a  slumbering  conscience.  The 
logic  may  be  faultless  ;  and  yet  even  though  the  point 
of  the  syllogism  is  not  evaded  it  will  be  coolly  ignored. 
Trouble  arouses  a  torpid  conscience  in  a  much  more 
direct  and  effectual  way.  In  the  first  place,  it  shatters 
the  pride  which  is  the  chief  hindrance  to  the  confession 
of  sin.  Then  it  compels  reflection ;  it  calls  a  halt,  and 
makes  us  look  back  over  the  path  we  may  have  been 
following  too  heedlessly.  Sometimes  it  seems  to  exercise 
a  distinctly  illuminating  influence.  It  is  as  though 
scales  had  fallen  from  the  sufferer's  eyes ;  he  sees  all 
things  in  a  new  light,  and  some  ugly  facts  which  had 
been  lying  at  his  side  for  years  disregarded  suddenly 
glare  upon  him  as  horrible  discoveries.  Thus  the 
"  Prodigal  Son "  perceives  that  he  has  sinned  both 
against  Heaven  and  against  his  father  when  he  is  in 
the  lowest  depths  of  misery,  not  so  much  because  he 
recognises  a  penal  character  in  his  troubles,  but  more 
on  account  of  the  fact  that  he  has  come  to  himself. 
This  subjective,  psychological  connection  between  suffer- 
ing and  sin  is  independent  of  any  dogma  of  retribution  ; 
for  the  ends  of  practical  discipline  it  is  the  most  im- 
portant connection.  We  may  waive  all  discussion  of 
the  ancient  Jewish  problem,  and  still  be  thankful  to 
recognise  the  Elijah-like  ministry  of  adversity. 

The  immediate  effect  of  this  vision  of  sin  is  that  a 
new  colour  is  given  to  the  picture  of  the  desolation  of 
Jerusalem.  The  image  of  a  miserable  woman  is  pre- 
served, but  the  dignity  of  the  earlier  scene  is  missing 
here.     Pathos  and  poetry  gather  round  the  picture  of 


THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


the  forlorn  widow  weeping  for  the  loss  of  her  children. 
Neglected  and  humbled  as  she  is  in  worldly  estate, 
the  tragic  vastness  of  her  sorrow  has  exalted  her  to 
an  altitude  of  moral  sublimity.  Such  suffering  breaks 
through  those  barriers  of  conventional  experience  which 
make  many  lives  look  mean  and  trivial.  It  is  so  awful 
that  we  cannot  but  regard  it  with  reverence.  But  all 
this  is  altered  in  the  aspect  of  Jerusalem  which  follows 
the  confession  of  her  great  sin.  In  the  freedom  of 
ancient  language  the  poet  ventures  on  an  illustration 
that  would  be  regarded  as  too  gross  for  modern  litera- 
ture. The  limits  of  our  art  exclude  subjects  which 
excite  a  sensation  of  disgust ;  but  this  is  just  the 
sensation  the  author  of  the  elegy  deliberately  aims 
at  producing.  He  paints  a  picture  which  is  simply 
intended  to  sicken  his  readers.  The  utter  humiliation 
of  Jerusalem  is  exhibited  in  the  unavoidable  exposure 
of  a  condition  which  natural  modesty  would  conceal  at 
any  cost.  Another  contrast  between  the  reserve  of  our 
modern  style  and  the  rude  bluntness  of  antiquity  is 
here  apparent.  It  is  not  only  that  we  have  grown 
more  refined  in  language — a  very  superficial  change 
which  might  be  no  better  than  the  whitewashing  of 
sepulchres ;  over  and  above  this  civilising  of  mere 
manners,  the  effect  of  Teutonic  habits,  strengthened  by 
Christian  sentiments,  has  been  to  develop  a  respect  for 
woman  undreamed  of  in  the  old  Eastern  world.  It  may 
be  added  that  the  scientific  temper  of  recent  times  has 
taught  us  that  there  is  nothing  really  dishonouring  in 
purely  natural  processes.  The  ancient  world  could  not 
distinguish  between  delicacy  and  shame.  We  should 
regard  a  poor  suffering  woman  whose  modesty  had 
been  grievously  wounded  with  simple  commiseration ; 
the   ancient  Jews  treated  such   a  person  with  disgust 


.]  SIN  AND  SUFFERING 


as  an  unclean  creature,  quite  unable  to  see  that  their 
conduct  was  simply  brutal. 

The  new  aspect  of  the  misery  of  Jerusalem  is  thus 
set  forth  as  one  of  degradation  and  ignominy.  The 
vision  of  sin  is  immediately  followed  by  a  scene  of 
shame.  Commentators  have  been  divided  over  the 
question  whether  this  picture  of  the  humiliated  woman 
is  intended  to  apply  to  the  sin  of  the  city  or  only  to  her 
misfortunes.  In  favour  of  the  former  view,  it  may  be 
remarked  that  uncleanness  is  distinctly  associated  with 
moral  corruption  :  the  connection  is  the  more  appro- 
priate here  inasmuch  as  a  confession  of  sin  immediately 
precedes.  On  the  other  hand,  the  attendant  circum- 
stances point  to  the  second  interpretation.  It  is  the 
humiliation  of  the  condition  of  the  sufferer,  rather  than 
that  condition  itself,  which  is  dwelt  upon.  Jerusalem  is 
despised,  "  she  sigheth,"  "  is  come  down  wonderfully," 
"  hath  no  comforter,"  and  is  generally  afflicted  and 
oppressed  by  her  enemies.  But  while  we  are  led  to 
regard  the  pitiable  picture  as  a  representation  of  the 
woful  plight  into  which  the  proud  city  has  fallen,  we  can- 
not conclude  it  to  be  an  accident  that  this  particular  phase 
of  her  misery  succeeds  the  mention  of  her  great  guilt. 
After  all,  it  is  only  the  underlying  guilt  that  can  justify 
a  verdict  which  carries  disgrace  as  v/ell  as  suffering  for 
its  penalty.  Even  when  the  judgments  of  men  are  too 
confused  to  recognise  this  truth  with  regard  to  other 
people,  it  should  be  apparent  to  the  conscience  of  the 
humiliated  person  himself  The  humiliation  which 
follows  nothing  worse  than  a  fall  into  external  mis- 
fortunes is  but  a  superficial  trouble,  and  the  conscious- 
ness of  innocence  can  enable  one  to  submit  to  it  without 
any  sense  of  inward  shame.  The  sting  of  contempt 
lies  in  the  miserable  consciousness  that  it  is  deserved. 


114  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

Thus  we  see  the  punishment  of  sin  consisting  in 
exposure.  The  exposure  which  simply  hurts  natural 
modesty  is  acutely  painful  to  a  refined,  sensitive  spirit ; 
and  yet  the  very  dignity  which  it  outrages  is  a  shield 
against  the  point  of  the  insult.  But  where  the  exposure 
follows  sin  this  shield  is  absent.  In  that  case  the  degra- 
dation of  it  is  without  any  mitigation.  Nothing  more 
may  be  necessary  to  constitute  a  very  severe  punish- 
ment. When  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  are  revealed 
the  very  revelation  will  be  a  penal  process.  To  lay 
bare  the  quivering  nerves  of  memory  to  the  searching 
sunlight  must  be  to  torture  the  guilty  soul  with  incon- 
ceivable horrors.  Nevertheless  it  is  a  matter  for 
profound  thankfulness  that  there  is  no  question  of 
a  surprising  revelation  of  the  sinner's  guilt  being  made 
to  God  at  some  future  time,  some  shocking  discovery 
which  might  turn  His  lovingkindness  into  wrath  or 
contempt.  We  cannot  have  a  firmer  ground  of  joy  and 
hope  than  the  fact  that  God  knows  everything  about 
us,  and  yet  loves  us  at  our  worst,  patiently  waiting  for 
repentance  with  His  offer  of  unlimited  forgiveness. 
Exposure  before  God  is  like  a  surgical  examination  ; 
the  hope  of  a  cure,  if  it  does  not  dispel  the  sense  of 
humiliation— and  that  is  impossible  in  the  case  of 
guilt,  the  disgrace  of  which  to  a  healthy  conscience  is 
more  intense  before  the  holiness  of  God  than  before 
the  eyes  of  fellow-sinners — still  encourages  confidence. 
The  recognition  of  a  moral  lapse  at  the  root  of  the 
shame  of  Jerusalem,  though  not  perhaps  in  the  shame 
itself,  is  confirmed  by  a  phrase  which  reflects  on  the 
culpable  heedlessness  of  the  Jews.  The  elegy  deplores 
how  the  city  has  "  come  down  wonderfully  "  on  account 
of  the  fact  that  "  she  remembered  not  her  latter  end." 
It  is  quite  confusing  and  incorreil  to  render  this  expres- 


i.8-ii.]  STN  AND  SUFFERING  115 

sion  in  the  present  tense  as  it  stands  in  the  Authorised 
■  English  Version.  The  poet  cannot  mean  that  the  Jews 
in  exile  and  captivity  have  already  forgotten  the  recent 
horrors  of  the  siege  of  Jerusalem.  This  would  be  flatly 
contrary  to  the  motive  of  the  elegy,  which  is  to  give 
tongue  to  the  sufferings  of  the  Jews  flowing  out  of 
that  disaster.  It  would  be  impossible  to  say  that  the 
calamity  that  inspired  the  elegy  was  no  longer  even 
remembered  by  its  victims.  What  an  anti-climax  this 
would  be  !  Clearly  the  poet  is  bewailing  the  culpable 
folly  of  the  people  in  not  giving  a  thought  to  the  certain 
consequences  of  such  a  course  as  they  were  following  ; 
a  course  that  had  been  denounced  by  the  faithful 
prophets  of  Jehovah,  who,  alas !  had  been  but  voices 
crying  in  the  wilderness,  unnoted,  or  even  scouted  and 
suppressed,  like  the  stormy  petrels  hated  by  sailors  as 
birds  of  ill-omen.  In  her  ease  and  prosperity,  her  self- 
indulgence  and  sin,  the  doomed  city  had  failed  to 
recollect  what  must  be  the  end  of  such  things.  The 
idea  of  remembrance  is  peculiarly  apt  and  forcible  in 
this  connection,  although  it  has  a  relation  to  the  future, 
because  the  Jews  had  been  through  experiences  which 
should  have  served  as  warnings  if  they  had  duly 
reflected  on  them.  This  was  not  a  matter  for  wild 
guesses  or  vague  apprehensions.  Not  only  were  there 
the  distinct  utterances  of  Jeremiah  and  his  predecessors 
to  rouse  the  thoughtless ;  events  had  been  speaking 
louder  than  words.  Jerusalem  was  already  a  city  with 
a  history,  and  that  history  had  even  by  this  time  accu- 
mulated some  tragic  lessons.  These  were  subjects  for 
memory.  Thus  memory  can  become  prophecy,  because 
the  laws  which  are  revealed  in  the  past  will  govern 
the  future.  We  are  none  of  us  so  wholly  inexperienced 
but  that  in   the  knowledge   of  what  we  have  already 


ii6  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


been  through  we  may  gain  wisdom  to  anticipate  the 
consequences  of  our  present  actions.  The  heedless 
person  is  one  who  forgets,  or  at  all  events  one  who 
will  not  attend  to  his  own  memories.  Such  reckless- 
ness is  its  own  condemnation  ;  it  cannot  plead  the 
excuse  of  ignorance. 

But  now  it  may  be  objected  that  this  reference  to 
the  mere  thought  of  consequences  suggests  considera- 
tions that  are  too  low  to  furnish  the  reasons  for  the 
ruin  of  Jerusalem.  Would  the  city  have  been  spared 
if  only  her  inhabitants  had  been  a  little  more  fore- 
seeing? It  should  be  observed  that  though  mere 
prudence  is  never  a  very  lofty  virtue,  imprudence  is 
sometimes  a  very  serious  fault.  It  cannot  be  right 
to  be  simply  reckless,  to  ignore  all  lessons  of  the  past 
and  fling  oneself  blindly  into  the  future.  The  hero 
who  is  sure  that  he  is  inspired  by  a  lofty  motive  may 
walk  straight  into  the  very  jaws  of  death,  and  be  all 
the  stronger  for  his  noble  indifference  to  his  fate  ;  but 
he  who  is  no  hero,  he  who  is  not  influenced  by  any 
great  or  unselfish  ideas,  has  no  excuse  for  neglecting 
the  warnings  of  common  prudence.  All  wise  actions 
must  be  more  or  less  guided  v/ith  a  view  to  their 
issues  in  the  future,  although  in  the  case  of  the  best 
of  them  the  aims  v>'ill  be  pure  and  unselfish.  It  is 
our  prerogative  to  "  look  before  and  after  "  ;  and  just 
in  proportion  as  v/e  take  long  views  do  our  deeds 
acquire  gravity  and  depth.  Our  Lord  characterised 
the  two  ways  by  their  ends.  While  the  example  of 
the  careless  Jews  is  followed  on  all  sides — and  who  of 
us  can  deny  that  he  has  ever  fallen  into  the  negli- 
gence ? — is  it  not  a  little  superfluous  to  discuss  abstract, 
unpractical  problems  about  a  remote  altruism  ? 

Intermingled  with  his  painful  picture  of  the  humilia- 


I.]  SIN  AND  SUFFERING 


tion  and  shame  of  the  fallen  city,  the  poet  supplies 
indications  of  the  effect  of  all  this  on  the  suffering 
citizens.  Despised  by  all  who  had  formerly  honoured 
her,  Jerusalem  sighs  and  longs  to  retire  into  obscurity, 
away  from  the  rude  gaze  of  her  oppressors. 

In  particular,  two  further  signs  of  her  distress  are 
here  given. 

The  first  is  spoliation.  Her  enemies  have  laid  hands 
on  "  all  her  pleasant  things."  It  may  strike  us  that, 
after  the  miseries  just  narrated,  this  is  but  a  minor 
trouble.  Job's  calamities  began  with  the  loss  of  his 
property,  and  rose  from  this  by  degrees  to  the  climax 
of  agony.  If  his  first  trouble  had  been  the  sudden 
death  of  all  his  children,  stunned  by  that  awful  blow, 
he  would  have  cared  little  about  the  fate  of  his  flocks 
and  herds.  It  is  not  according  to  the  method  of  the 
Lamentations,  however,  to  move  on  to  any  climax.  The 
thoughts  are  set  forth  as  they  well  up  in  the  mind  of 
the  poet,  now  passionate  and  intense,  then  again  of  a 
milder  cast,  yet  altogether  combining  to  colour  one 
picture  of  intolerable  woe.  But  there  is  an  aspect  of 
this  idea  of  the  robbery  of  the  "  pleasant  things  "  which 
heightens  the  sense  of  miser}^  It  is  another  instance 
of  the  force  of  contrast  so  often  manifested  in  these 
elegies.  Jerusalem  had  been  a  home  of  wealth  and 
luxury  in  the  merry  old  days.  But  hoarded  .money, 
precious  jewellery,  family  heirlooms,  products  of  art 
and  skill,  accumulated  during  generations  of  prosperity 
and  treated  as  necessaries  of  life — all  had  been  swept 
away  in  the  sack  of  the  city,  and  scattered  among 
strangers  who  could  not  prize  them  as  they  had  been 
prized  by  their  ovmcrs ;  and  now  these  victims  of 
spoliation,  stripped  of  everything,  vv'ere  in  want  of 
daily  bread.     Even  what  little  could  be  saved  {vl  m  the 


THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 


A\Teck  the}'  had  to  give  up  in  exchange  for  common 
food,  bought  dearly  in  the  market  of  necessity. 

The  second  sign  of  the  great  distress  here  noted  is 
desecration.  Gentiles  invade  the  sacred  precincts  of 
the  temple.  Considering  that  the  sanctuary  had  been 
alread}^  much  more  effectually  desecrated  by  the  blood- 
stained hands  and  lustful  hearts  of  impious  worshippers, 
such  as  those  "  rulers  of  Sodom  "  denounced  by  Isaiah 
for  "trampling"  the  courts  of  Jehovah  with  their 
"  vain  oblations,"  ^  we  do  not  find  it  easy  to  sympathise 
with  this  horror  of  a  supposed  defilement  from  the 
mere  presence  of  heathen  persons.  Yet  it  would  be 
unjust  to  accuse  the  shocked  Israelites  of  hypocrisy. 
They  ought  to  have  been  more  conscious  of  the  one 
real  corruption  of  sin  ;  but  we  cannot  add  that  therefore 
their  notions  of  external  uncleanness  were  altogether 
foolish  and  WTong.  To  judge  the  Jews  of  the  age  of 
the  Captivity  by  a  standard  of  spirituality  which  few 
Christians  have  3-et  attained  to  would  be  a  cruel 
anachronism.  The  Syrian  invasion  of  the  temple  in 
the  time  of  the  Maccabees  was  called  by  a  very  late 
prophet  an  **  abomination  of  desolation,"  ^  and  a  similar 
insult  to  be  offered  to  the  sacred  place  by  the  Romans 
is  described  by  our  Lord  in  the  same  terms.^  All  of 
us  must  be  conscious  at  times  of  the  sacredness  of 
associations.  To  botanise  on  his  mother's  grave  may 
be  a  proof  of  a  man's  freedom  from  superstition,  but 
it  cannot  be  taken  as  an  indication  of  the  fineness 
of  his  feelings.  The  Israelite  exclusiveness  which 
shunned  the  intrusion  of  foreigners  simply  because 
they  were  foreigners  was  combined  both  with  a  patriotic 
anxiet}'  to  preserve  the  integrity  of  the  nation,  and  in 

'   I-sa.  i.   10-17.  "  Dan.  xi.  31.  ^  Mark  xiii.    14. 


i.8-ii.]  SIN  AND  SUFFERING  119 

some  cases  with  a  religious  dread  of  idolatry.  It  is 
true  the  nominal  contamination  of  the  mere  presence 
of  Gentiles  was  generally  more  dreaded  than  the  real 
contagion  of  their  corrupt  examples.  Still  the  very 
idea  of  desecration,  even  when  it  is  superficial,  together 
with  a  sense  of  pain  at  its  presence,  is  higher  than 
the  materialism  which  despises  it  not  because  this 
materialism  has  the  grace  to  sanctify  everything,  but 
for  the  opposite  reason,  because  it  counts  nothing  holy, 
because  to  it  all  things  are  common  and  unclean. 

Before  we  pass  from  this  portion  of  the  elegy  there 
is  one  curious  characteristic  of  it  which  calls  for  notice. 
The  poet  suddenly  drops  the  construction  in  the  third 
person  and  writes  in  the  first  person.  This  he  does 
twice — at  the  end  of  the  ninth  verse,  and  again  at  the 
end  of  the  eleventh.  He  might  be  speaking  in  his 
own  person,  but  the  language  points  to  the  personified 
city.  Yet  in  each  case  the  outburst  is  quite  abrupt, 
sprung  upon  us  without  any  introductory  formula. 
Possibly  the  explanation  of  this  anomaly  must  be 
sought  in  the  liturgical  use  for  which  the  poem  was 
designed.  If  it  was  to  be  sung  antiphonally  we  may 
conjecture  that  at  these  places  a  second  chorus  would 
break  in.  The  result  would  be  a  startling  dramatic 
effect — as  though  the  city  had  sat  listening  to  the 
lament  over  her  woes  until  the  piteous  tale  had  com- 
pelled her  to  break  her  silence  and  cry  aloud.  In 
each  case  the  cry  is  directed  to  heaven.  It  is  an  appeal 
to  God  ;  and  it  simply  prays  for  His  attention — "  Be- 
hold, O  Lord,"  "  See,  O  Lord,  and  behold."  In  the 
first  case  the  Divine  attention  is  called  to  the  insolence 
of  the  enemy,  in  the  second  to  the  degradation  of 
Jerusalem.  Still  it  is  only  an  appeal  for  notice.  Will 
God  but  look  upon  all  this  misery  ?     That  is  sufficient. 


CHAPTER    VI 

ZION'S  APPEAL 


IN  the  latter  part  of  the  second  elegy  Jerusalem 
appears  as  the  speaker,  appealing  for  sympathy, 
first  to  stray,  passing  travellers,  then  to  the  larger 
circle  of  the  surrounding  nations,  and  lastly  to  her  God. 
Already  the  suffering  city  has  spoken  once  or  twice 
in  brief  interruptions  of  the  poet's  descriptions  of  her 
miseries,  and  now  she  seems  to  be  too  impatient  to 
permit  herself  to  be  represented  any  longer  even  by 
this  friendly  advocate;  she  must  come  forward  in 
person  and  present  her  case  in  her  own  words. 

There  is  much  difference  of  opinion  among  commen- 
tators about  the  rendering  of  the  phrase  with  which 
the  appeal  begins.  The  Revisers  have  followed  the 
Authorised  Version  in  taking  it  as  a  question — "  Is 
it  nothing  to  you,  all  ye  that  pass  by?"^  But  it  may 
be  treated  as  a  direct  negative — "  It  is  nothing,"  etc., 
or,  by  a  slightly  different  reading  of  the  Hebrew  text, 
^  a  simple  call  for  attention — "  O  all  3^e  that  pass  by," 
.  ''.  «5  in  the  Vulgate  "O  vos,''^  etc.  The  usual  render- 
.V  finest  in  literary  feeling,  and  it  is  in  accord- 
-nmon  usage.     Although  the  sign  of  an 


ance  with  a  c 


interrogation,  whic.     ^^^j^    ^^^    ^^^-^    ^^^^j_  beyond 


'•    "v'2. 
I20\ 


i.  12-22.]  ZION'S  APPEAL 


dispute,  is  absent,  there  does  not  seem  to  be  sufficient 
reason  for  rejecting  it  in  favour  of  one  of  the  proposed 
alternatives.  But  in  any  case  the  whole  passage 
evidently  expresses  a  deep  yearning  for  sympathy. 
Mere  strangers,  roving  Bedouin,  any  people  who  may 
chance  to  be  passing  by  Jerusalem,  are  implored  to 
behold  her  incomparable  woes.  The  wounded  animal 
creeps  into  a  corner  to  suffer  and  die  in  secret,  perhaps 
on  account  of  the  habit  of  herds,  in  tormenting  a 
suffering  mate.  But  among  mankind  the  instinct  of 
a  sufferer  is  to  crave  sympathy,  from  a  friend,  if 
possible ;  but  if  such  be  not  available,  then  even  from 
a  stranger.  Now  although  where  it  is  possible  to  give 
effectual  aid,  merely  to  cast  a  pitying  look  and  pass  by 
on  the  other  side,  like  the  priest  and  the  Levite  in  the 
parable,  is  a  mockery  and  a  cruelty,  although  unpre- 
tentious indifference  is  better  than  that  hypocrisy,  it 
would  be  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that  in  those 
cases  for  which  no  direct  relief  can  be  given  sympathy 
is  of  no  value.  This  sympathy,  if  it  is  real,  would  help 
if  it  could ;  and  under  all  circumstances  it  is  the  reality 
of  the  sympathy  that  is  most  prized,  not  its  issues. 

It  should  be  remembered,  further,  that  the  first 
condition  of  active  aid  is  a  genuine  sense  of  compas- 
sion, v/hich  can  only  be  awakened  by  means  of  know- 
ledge and  the  impressions  which  a  contemplation  of 
suffering  produce.  Evil  is  wrought  not  only  from 
want  of  thought,  but  also  from  lack  of  knowledge  ;  and 
good-doing  is  withheld  for  the  sam.e  reason.  Therefore 
the  first  requisite  is  to  arrest  attention.  A  royal  com- 
mission is  the  reasonable  precursor  of  a  state  remedy 
for  some  public  wrong.  Misery  is  permitted  to  flourish 
in  the  dark  because  people  are  too  indolent  to  search 
it  out.     No  doubt    the  knowledge  of  sufferings  v/hich 


122  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

we  might  remedy  implies  a  grave  responsibility ;  but 
we  cannot  escape  our  obligations  by  simply  closing  our 
eyes  to  what  we  do  not  wish  to  see.  We  are  respon- 
sible for  our  ignorance  and  its  consequences  wherever 
the  opportunity  of  knowledge  is  within  our  reach. 

The  appeal  to  all  who  pass  by  is  most  familiar  to  us 
in  its  later  association  with  our  Lord's  sufferings  on 
the  cross.  But  this  is  not  in  any  sense  a  Messianic 
passage  ;  it  is  confined  in  its  purpose  to  the  miseries  of 
Jerusalem.  Of  course  there  can  be  no  objection  to 
illustrating  the  grief  and  pain  of  the  Man  of  Sorrows 
by  using  the  classic  language  of  an  ancient  lament  if 
we  note  that  this  is  only  an  illustration.  There  is  a 
kinship  in  all  suffering,  and  it  is  right  to  consider  that 
He  who  was  tried  in  all  points  as  we  are  tried  passed 
through  sorrows  which  absorbed  all  the  bitterness  even 
of  suc'h  a  cup  of  woe  as  that  which  was  drunk  by 
Jerusalem  in  the  extremity  of  her  misfortunes.  If 
never  before  there  had  been  sorrow  like  unto  her 
sorrow,  at  length  that  was  matched,  nay,  surpassed  at 
Gethsemane  and  Golgotha.  Still  it  would  be  a  mistake 
to  confine  these  words  to  their  secondary  application — 
not  only  an  exegetical  mistake,  but  one  of  deeper  sig- 
nificance. Jesus  Christ  restrained  the  wailing  of  the 
women  who  offered  Him  their  compassion  on  His  way 
to  the  cross,  bidding  them  weep  not  for  Him,  but  for 
themselves  and  their  children.^  Much  more  when  His 
passion  is  long  past  and  He  is  reigning  in  glory  must 
it  be  displeasing  to  Him  for  His  friends  to  be  wasting 
idle  tears  over  the  sufferings  of  His  earthly  life.  The 
morbid  sentimentality  which  broods  over  the  ancient 
wounds  of  Christ,  the  nail  prints  and  the  spear  thrust, 

'  Luke  xxiii.  28. 


i.  12-22.]  ZION'S  APPEAL  123 

but  ignores  the  present  wounds  of  society — the  wounds 
of  the  world  for  which  He  bled  and  died,  or  the  wounds 
of  the  Church  which  is  His  body  now,  must  be  wrong 
in  His  sight.  He  would  rather  we  gave  a  cup  of  cold 
water  to  one  of  His  brethren  than  an  ocean  of  tears  to 
the  memory  of  Calvary.  If  then  we  would  make  use  of 
the  ruined  city's  appeal  for  sympathy  by  applying  it  to 
some  later  object  it  would  be  more  in  agreement  with 
the  mind  of  Christ  to  think  of  the  miseries  of  mankind 
in  our  own  day,  and  to  consider  how  a  sympathetic 
regard  for  them  may  point  to  some  ministry  of 
alleviati  on. 

In  order  to  impress  the  magnitude  of  her  miseries  on 
the  minds  of  the  strangers  whose  attention  she  would 
arrest,  the  city,  now  personified  as  a  suppliant,  describes 
her  dreadful  condition  in  a  series  of  brief,  pointed 
metaphors.  Thus  the  imagination  is  excited ;  and  the 
imagination  is  one  of  the  roads  to  the  heart.  It  is  not 
enough  that  people  know  the  bald  facts  of  a  calamity 
as  these  may  be  scheduled  in  an  inspector's  report. 
Although  this  preliminary  information  is  most  important, 
if  we  go  no  further  the  report  will  be  replaced  in  its 
pigeon-hole,  and  lie  there  till  it  is  forgotten.  If  it  is  to 
do  something  better  than  gather  the  dust  of  years  it 
must  be  used  as  a  foundation  for  the  imagination  to 
work  upon.  This  does  not  imply  any  departure  from 
truth,  any  false  colouring  or  exaggeration ;  on  the 
contrary,  the  process  only  brings  out  the  truth  which 
is  not  really  seen  until  it  is  imagined.  Let  us  look 
at  the  various  images  under  which  the  distress  of 
Jerusalem  is  here  presented. 

It  is  like  a  fire  in  the  bones.^     It  burns,  consumes, 


124  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


pains  with  intolerable  torment ;  it  is  no  skin-deep 
trouble,  it  penetrates  to  the  very  marrow.  This  fire  is 
overmastering  ;  it  is  not  to  be  quenched,  neither  does  it 
die  out;  it  " prevaileth "  against  the  bones.  There  is 
no  getting  such  a  fire  under. 

It  is  like  a  net.^  The  image  is  changed.  We  see  a 
wild  creature  caught  in  the  bush,  or  perhaps  a  fiigitive 
arrested  in  his  flight  and  flung  down  by  hidden  snares 
at  his  feet.  Here  is  the  shock  of  surprise,  the  humilia- 
tion of  deceit,  the  vexation  of  being  thwarted.  The 
result  is  a  baffled,  bewildered,  helpless  condition. 

It  is  like  faintness.^  The  desolate  sufferer  is  ill.  It 
is  bad  enough  to  have  to  bear  calamities  in  the  strength 
of  health.  Jerusalem  is  made  sick  and  kept  faint  "  all 
the  day " — with  a  faintness  that  is  not  a  momentary 
collapse,  but  a  continuous  condition  of  failure. 

It  is  like  a  yoke  ^  which  is  wreathed  upon  the  neck — 
fixed  on,  as  with  twisted  withes.  The  poet  is  here 
more  definite.  The  yoke  is  made  out  of  the  trans- 
gressions of  Jerusalem.  The  sense  of  guilt  does  not 
lighten  its  weight ;  the  band  that  holds  it  most  closely 
is  the  feeling  that  it  is  deserved.  It  is  natural  that  the 
sinful  sufferer  should  exclaim  that  God,  who  has  bound 
this  terrible  yoke  upon  her,  has  made  her  strength  to 
fail.  As  there  is  nothing  so  invigorating  as  the 
assurance  that  one  is  suffering  for  a  righteous  cause, 
so  there  is  nothing  so  wretchedly  depressing  as  the 
consciousness  of  guilt. 

Lastl}^,  it  is  like  a  winepress.  *  This  image  is 
elaborated  with  more  detail,  although  at  the  expense  of 
unity  of  design.  God  is  said  to  have  called  a  "  solemn 
assembly  "  to  oppress  the  Jews,  by  an  ironical  reversal 


1.  13. 


i.  12-22.]  ZION'S  APPEAL 


of  the  common  notion  of  such  an  assembly.  The 
language  recalls  the  idea  of  one  of  the  great  national 
festivals  of  Israel.  But  now  instead  of  the  favoured 
people  their  enemies  are  summoned,  and  the  object  is 
not  the  glad  praise  of  God  for  His  bounties  in  harvest 
or  vintage,  but  the  crushing  of  the  Jews.  They  are  to 
be  victims,  not  guests  as  of  old.  They  are  themselves 
the  harvest  of  judgment,  the  vintage  of  wrath.  The 
wine  is  to  be  made,  but  the  grapes  crushed  to  produce 
it  are  the  people  who  were  accustomed  to  feast  and 
drink  of  the  fruits  of  God's  bounty  in  the  happy  days 
of  their  prosperity.  So  the  mighty  men  are  set  at 
nought,  their  prowess  counting  as  nothing  against  the 
brutal  rush  of  the  enemy  ;  and  the  young  men  are 
crushed,  their  spirit  and  vigour  failing  them  in  the 
great  destruction. 

The  most  terrible  trait  in  these  pictures,  one  that  is 
common  to  all  of  them,  is  the  Divine  origin  of  the 
troubles.  It  was  God  who  sent  fire  into  the  bones, 
spread  the  net,  made  the  sufferer  desolate  and  faint. 
The  yoke  was  bound  by  His  hands.  It  was  He  who 
set  at  nought  the  mighty  men,  and  summoned  the 
assembly  of  foes  to  crush  His  people.  The  poet  even 
goes  so  far  as  to  make  the  daring  statement  that  it 
was  the  Lord  Himself  who  trod  the  virgin  daughter 
of  Judah  as  in  a  winepress.  It  is  a  ghastly  picture — 
a  dainty  maiden  trampled  to  death  by  Jehovah  as 
grapes  are  trampled  to  squeeze  out  their  juice  1  This 
horrible  thing  is  ascribed  to  God  I  Yet  there  is  no 
complaint  of  barbarity,  no  idea  that  the  Judge  of  all 
the  earth  is  not  doing  right.  The  miserable  city  does 
not  bring  any  railing  accusation  against  her  Lord ;  she 
takes  all  the  blame  upon  herself  We  must  be  careful 
to  bear  in  mind  the  distinction  between  poetic  imagery 


126  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

and  prosaic  narrative.  Still  it  remains  true  that  Jeru- 
salem here  attributes  her  troubles  to  the  will  and 
action  of  God.  This  is  vital  to  the  Hebrew  faith. 
To  explain  it  away  is  to  impoverish  the  religion  of 
Israel,  and  with  it  the  Old  Testament  revelation.  That 
revelation  shews  us  the  absolute  sovereignty  of  God, 
and  at  the  same  time  it  brings  out  the  guilt  of  man,  so 
that  no  room  is  allowed  for  complaints  against  the  Divine 
justice.  The  grief  is  all  the  greater  because  there  is  no 
thought  of  rebelHon.  The  daring  doubts  that  struggle 
into  expression  in  Job  never  obtrude  themselves  here 
to  check  the  even  flow  of  tears.  The  melancholy  is 
profound,  but  comparatively  calm,  since  it  does  not 
once  give  place  to  anger.  It  is  natural  that  the  suc- 
cession of  images  of  misery  conceived  in  this  spirit 
should  be  followed  by  a  burst  of  tears.  Zion  weeps 
because  the  comforter  who  should  refresh  her  soul  is 
far  away,  and  she  is  left  utterly  desolate.^ 

Here  the  supposed  utterance  of  Jerusalem  is  broken 
for  the  poet  to  insert  a  description  of  the  suppliant 
making  her  piteous  appeal.  ^  He  shews  us  Zion 
spreading  out  her  hands,  that  is  to  say,  in  the  well- 
known  attitude  of  prayer.  She  is  comfortless,  oppressed 
by  her  neighbours  in  accordance  with  the  will  of  her  God, 
and  treated  as  an  unclean  thing ;  she  who  had  despised 
the  idolatrous  Gentiles  in  her  pride  of  superior  sanctity 
has  now  become  foul  and  despicable  in  their  eyes  ! 

The  semi-dramatic  form  of  the  elegy  is  seen  in  the 
reappearance  of  Jerusalem  as  speaker  without  any 
formula  of  introduction.  After  the  poet's  brief  inter- 
jection describing  the  suppliant,  the  personified  city 
continues  her  plaintive  appeal,  but  with  a  considerable 


i6. 


i.  12-22.]  ZION'S  APPEAL  127 

enlargement  of  its  scope.  She  makes  the  most  distinct 
acknowledgment  of  the  two  vital  elements  of  the  case — 
God's  righteousness  and  her  own  rebellion,^  These 
carry  us  beneath  the  visible  scenes  of  trouble  so 
graphically  illustrated  earlier,  and  fix  our  attention  on 
deep-seated  principles.  It  cannot  be  supposed  that 
the  faith  and  penitence  unreservedly  confessed  in  the 
elegy  were  truly  experienced  by  all  the  fugitive  citizens 
of  Jerusalem,  though  they  were  found  in  the  devout 
"  remnant  "  among  whom  the  author  of  the  poem  must 
be  reckoned.  But  the  reasonable  interpretation  of 
these  utterances  is  that  which  accepts  them  as  the 
inspired  expressions  of  the  thoughts  and  feelings  which 
Jerusalem  ought  to  possess,  as  ideal  expressions,  suit- 
able to  those  who  rightly  appreciate  the  whole  situation. 
This  fact  gives  them  a  wide  applicability.  The  ideal 
approaches  the  universal.  Although  it  cannot  be  said 
that  all  trouble  is  the  direct  punishment  of  sin,  and 
although  it  is  manifestly  insincere  to  make  confession 
of  guilt  one  does  not  inwardly  admit,  to  be  firmly 
settled  in  the  conviction  that  God  is  right  in  what  He 
does  even  when  it  all  looks  most  wrong,  that  if  there 
is  a  fault  it  must  be  on  man's  side,  is  to  have  reached 
the  centre  of  truth.  This  is  very  different  from  the  ad- 
mission that  God  has  the  right  of  an  absolute  sovereign 
to  do  whatever  He  chooses,  like  mad  Caligula  when 
intoxicated  with  his  own  divinity ;  it  even  implies  a 
denial  of  that  supposed  right,  for  it  asserts  that  He 
acts  in  accordance  with  something  other  than  His  will, 
viz.,  righteousness. 

Enlarging  the  area  of  her  appeal,  no  longer  content 
to  snatch  at  the  casual  pity  of  individual  travellers  on 


18. 


12S  THE   LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

the  road,  Jerusalem  now  calls  upon  all  the  "  peoples  " — 
I.e.,  all  neighbouring  tribes — to  hear  the  tale  of  her  woes.^ 
This  is  too  huge  a  tragedy  to  be  confined  to  private 
spectators  ;  it  is  of  national  proportions,  and  it  claims 
the  attention  of  whole  nations.  It  is  curious  to  observe 
that  foreigners,  whom  the  strict  Jews  sternly  exclude 
from  their  privileges,  are  nevertheless  besought  to 
compassionate  their  distresses.  These  uncircumcised 
heathen  are  not  now  thrust  contemptuousl}'-  aside ;  they 
are  even  appealed  to  as  sympathisers.  Perhaps  this 
is  meant  to  indicate  the  vastness  of  the  misery  of 
Jerusalem  by  the  suggestion  that  even  aliens  should  be 
aftected  by  it ;  when  the  waves  spread  far  in  all  directions 
there  must  have  been  a  most  terrible  storm  at  the  centre 
of  disturbance.  Still  it  is  possible  to  find  in  this  widening 
outlook  of  the  poet  a  sign  of  the  softening  and  enlarging 
effects  of  trouble.  The  very  need  of  much  sympathy 
breaks  down  the  barriers  of  proud  exclusiveness,  and 
prepares  one  to  look  for  gracious  qualities  among  people 
who  have  been  previously  treated  with  churlish  indiffer- 
ence or  positive  animosity.  Floods  and  earthquakes 
tame  savage  beasts.  On  the  battlefield  wounded  men 
gratefully  accept  relief  from  their  mortal  enemies. 
Conduct  of  this  sort  may  be  self-regarding,  perhaps 
weak  and  cowardly  ;  still  it  is  an  outcome  of  the  natural 
brotherhood  of  all  mankind,  any  confession  of  which, 
however  reluctant,  is  a  welcome  thing. 

The  appeal  to  the  nations  contains  three  particulars. 
It  deplores  the  captivity  of  the  virgins  and  young  men  ; 
the  treachery  of  allies — **  lovers  "  who  have  been  called 
upon  for  assistance,  but  in  vain  ;  and  the  awful  fact  that 
men  of  such  consequence  as  the  elders  and  priests,  the 


12-22.]  Z ION'S  APPEAL 


ver}'  aristocracy  of  Jerusalem,  had  died  of  starvation  after 
an  ineffectual  search  for  food — a  lurid  picture  of  the 
horrors  of  the  siege.^  The  details  repeat  themselves 
with  but  very  slight  variations.  It  is  natural  for  a  great 
sufferer  to  revolve  his  bitter  morsel  continuously.  The 
action  is  a  sign  of  its  bitterness.  The  monotony  of  the 
dirge  is  a  sure  indication  of  the  depth  of  the  trouble 
that  occasions  it.  The  theme  is  only  too  interesting  to 
the  mourner,  however  wearisome  it  may  become  to  the 
listener. 

In  drawing  to  a  close  the  appeal  goes  further,  and, 
rising  altogether  above  man,  seeks  the  attention  of  God.^ 
It  is  not  enough  that  every  passing  traveller  is  arrested, 
nor  even  that  the  notice  of  all  the  neighbouring  nations 
is  sought ;  this  trouble  is  too  great  for  human  shoulders 
to  bear.  It  will  absorb  the  largest  mass  of  sympathy, 
and  yet  thirst  for  more.  Twice  before  in  the  first  part 
of  the  elegy  the  language  of  the  poet  speaking  in  his 
own  person  was  interrupted  by  an  outcry  of  Jerusalem 
to  God.^  Now  the  elegy  closes  with  a  fuller  appeal  to 
Heaven.  This  is  an  utterance  of  faith  where  faith  is 
tried  to  the  uttermost.  It  is  distinctly  recognised  that 
the  calamities  bewailed  have  been  sent  by  God  ;  and 
yet  the  stricken  city  turns  to  God  for  consolation. 
And  the  appeal  is  not  at  all  in  the  form  of  a  cry  to  a 
tormentor  for  mercy;  it  seeks  friendly  sympathy  and 
avenging  actions.  Nothing  could  more  clearly  prove 
the  consciousness  that  God  is  not  doing  any  wrong  to 
His  people.  Not  only  is  there  no  complaint  against 
the  justice  of  His  acts ;  in  spite  of  them  all  He  is  still 
regarded  as  the  greatest  Friend  and  Helper  of  the 
victims  of  His  wrath. 

'  i.  i8,  19.  *  i.  20-2.  ^  i.  9,  II. 


I30  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

This  apparently  paradoxical  position  issues  in  what 
might  otherwise  be  a  contradiction  of  thought.  The 
ruin  of  Jerusalem  is  attributed  to  the  righteous  judgment 
of  God,  against  which  no  shadow  of  complaint  is  raised  ; 
and  yet  God  is  asked  to  pour  vengeance  on  the  heads 
of  the  human  agents  of  His  v/rath  I  These  people  have 
been  acting  from  their  own  evil,  or  at  all  events  their 
own  inimical  motives.  Therefore  it  is  not  held  that 
they  deserve  punishment  for  their  conduct  any  the  less 
on  account  of  the  fact  that  they  have  been  the  uncon- 
scious instruments  of  Providence.  The  vengeance  here 
sought  for  cannot  be  brought  into  line  with  Christian 
principles  ;  but  the  poet  had  never  heard  the  Sermon 
on  the  Mount.  It  would  not  have  occurred  to  him  that 
the  spirit  of  revenge  was  not  right,  any  more  than  it 
occurred  to  the  writers  of  maledictory  Psalms. 

There  is  one  more  point  in  this  final  appeal  to  God 
which  should  be  noticed,  because  it  is  very  character- 
istic of  the  elegy  throughout.  Zion  bewails  her  friend- 
less condition,  declaring,  "  there  is  none  to  comfort 
me."^  This  is  the  fifth  reference  to  the  absence  of 
a  comforter.^  The  idea  may  be  merely  introduced  in 
order  to  accentuate  the  description  of  utter  desolation. 
And  yet  when  we  compare  the  several  allusions  to  it 
the  conclusion  seems  to  be  forced  upon  us  that  the  poet 
has  a  more  specific  intention.  In  some  cases,  at  least, 
he  seems  to  have  one  particular  comforter  in  mind,  as, 
for  example,  when  he  says,  "  The  comforter  that  should 
refresh  my  soul  is  far  from  me,"  •''  Our  thoughts  in- 
stinctively turn  to  the  Paraclete  of  St.  John's  Gospel.  It 
would  not  be  reasonable  to  suppose  that  the  elegist  had 
attained  to  any  definite  conception  of  the  Holy  Spirit 

'  i.  21.  -  See  i.  2,  9,  16,  17,  21.  *  i.  16. 


i.  12-22.]  ZION'S  APPEAL  131 

such  as  that  of  the  ripe  Christian  revelation.  But  we 
have  his  own  words  to  witness  that  God  is  to  him 
the  supreme  Comforter,  is  the  Lord  and  Giver  of 
life  who  refreshes  his  soul.  It  would  seem,  then,  that 
the  poet's  thought  is  like  that  of  the  author  of  the 
twenty-second  Psalm,  which  was  echoed  in  our  Lord's 
cry  of  despair  on  the  cross.^  When  God  our  Comforter 
hides  the  light  of  His  countenance  the  night  is  most 
dark.  Yet  the  darkness  is  not  always  perceived,  or  its 
cause  recognised.  Then  to  miss  the  consolations  of 
God  consciously,  with  pain,  is  the  first  step  towards 
recovering  them. 

'  Mark  xv.  34. 


CHAPTER    Vll 

GOD    AS    AN   ENEMY 


THE  elegist,  as  we  have  seen,  attributes  the 
troubles  of  the  Jews  to  the  will  and  action  of 
God.  In  the  second  poem  he  even  ventures  further, 
and  with  daring  logic  presses  this  idea  to  its  ultimate 
issues.  If  God  is  tormenting  His  people  in  fierce 
anger  it  must  be  because  He  is  their  enemy — so  the 
sad-hearted  patriot  reasons.  The  course  of  Providence 
does  not  shape  itself  to  him  as  a  merciful  chastisement, 
as  a  veiled  blessing ;  its  motive  seems  to  be  distinctly 
unfriendly.  He  drives  his  dreadful  conclusion  home 
with  great  amplitude  of  details.  In  order  to  appreciate 
the  force  of  it  let  us  look  at  the  illustrative  passage 
in  two  ways — first,  in  view  of  the  calamities  inflicted  on 
Jerusalem,  all  of  which  are  here  ascribed  to  God,  and 
then  with  regard  to  those  thoughts  and  purposes  of  their 
Divine  Author  which  appear  to  be  revealed  in  them. 

First,  then,  we  have  the  earthly  side  of  the  process. 
The  daughter  of  Zion  is  covered  with  a  cloud. ^  The 
metaphor  would  be  more  striking  in  the  brilliant  East 
than  it  is  to  us  in  our  habitually  sombre  climate. 
There  it  would  suggest  unwonted  gloom — the  loss  of 
the  customary  light  of  heaven,  rare  distress,  and  ex- 


ii.  1-9.J  GOD  AS  AN  ENEMY  133 

cessive  melancholy.  It  is  a  general,  comprehensive 
image  intended  to  overshadow  all  that  follows.  Terrible 
disasters  cover  the  aspect  of  all  things  from  zenith  to 
horizon.  The  physical  darkness  that  accompanied  the 
horrors  of  Golgotha  is  here  anticipated,  not  indeed  by 
any  actual  prophecy,  but  in  idea. 

But  there  is  more  than  gloom.  A  mere  cloud  may 
lift,  and  discover  everything  unaltered  by  the  passing 
shadow.  The  distress  that  has  fallen  on  Jerusalem 
is  not  thus  superficial  and  transient.  She  herself  has 
suffered  a  fatal  fall.  The  beauty  of  Israel  has  been 
cast  down  from  heaven  to  earth.  The  language  is  now 
varied ;  instead  of  "  the  daughter  of  Zion  "  we  have 
"  the  beauty  of  Israel."  ^  The  use  of  the  larger  title, 
"  Israel,"  is  not  a  little  significant.  It  shews  that  the 
elegist  is  alive  to  the  idea  of  the  fundamental  unity  of  his 
race,  a  unity  which  could  not  be  destroyed  by  centuries 
of  inter-tribal  warfare.  Although  in  the  ungracious 
region  of  politics  Israel  stood  aloft  from  Judah,  the 
two  peoples  were  frequently  treated  as  one  by  poets 
and  prophets  when  religious  ideas  were  in  mind.  Here 
apparently  the  vastness  of  the  calamities  of  Jerusalem 
has  obliterated  the  memory  of  jealous  distinctions. 
Similarly  we  may  see  the  great  English  race — British 
and  American — forgetting  national  divisions  in  pursuit 
of  its  higher  religious  aims,  as  in  Christian  missions ;  and 
we  may  be  sure  that  this  blood-unity  would  be  felt  most 
keenly  under  the  shadow  of  a  great  trouble  on  either 
side  of  the  Atlantic.  By  the  time  of  the  destruction  of 
Jerusalem  the  northern  tribes  had  been  scattered,  but 
the  use  of  the  distinctive  name  of  these  people  is  a  sign 
that  the  ancient  oneness  of  all  who  traced  back  their 


134  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

pedigree  to  the  patriarch  Jacob  was  still  recognised. 
It  is  some  compensation  for  the  endurance  of  trouble 
to  find  it  thus  breaking  down  the  middle  wall  of 
partition  between  estranged  brethren. 

It  has  been  suggested  with  probability  that  by  the 
expression  "  the  beauty  of  Israel  "  the  elegist  intended 
to  indicate  the  temple.  This  magnificent  pile  of 
buildings,  crowning  one  of  the  hills  of  Jerusalem,  and 
shining  with  gold  in  "  barbaric  splendour,"  was  the 
central  object  of  beauty  among  all  the  people  who 
revered  the  worship  it  enshrined.  Its  situation  would 
naturally  suggest  the  language  here  employed.  Jeru- 
salem rises  among  the  hills  of  Judah,  some  two  thousand 
feet  above  the  sea-level ;  and  when  viewed  from  the 
wilderness  in  the  south  she  looks  indeed  like  a  city 
built  in  the  heavens.  But  the  physical  exaltation  of 
Jerusalem  and  her  temple  was  surpassed  by  exaltation 
in  privilege,  and  prosperity,  and  pride.  Capernaum, 
the  vain  city  of  the  lake  that  would  raise  herself  to 
heaven,  is  warned  by  Jesus  that  she  shall  be  cast  down 
to  Hades.^  Now  not  only  Jerusalem,  but  the  glory  of 
the  race  of  Israel,  symbolised  by  the  central  shrine 
of  the  national  religion,  is  thus  humiliated. 

Still  keeping  in  mind  the  temple,  the  poet  tells  us 
that  God  has  forgotten  His  footstool.  He  seems  to  be 
thinking  of  the  Mercy-Seat  over  the  ark,  the  spot  at 
which  God  was  thought  to  shew  Himself  propitious  to 
Israel  on  the  great  Day  of  Atonement,  and  which 
was  looked  upon  as  the  very  centre  of  the  Divine 
presence.  In  the  destruction  of  the  temple  the  holiest 
places  were  outraged,  and  the  ark  itself  carried  off  or 
broken  up,  and   never  more  heard  of.     How  different 

'  Matt.  xi.  23. 


ii.  1-9.]  GOD  AS  AN  ENEMY  135 

was  this  from  the  story  of  the  loss  of  the  ark  in  the 
days  of  Eli,  when  the  Philistines  were  constrained  to 
send  it  home  of  their  own  accord  !  Now  no  miracle 
intervenes  to  punish  the  heathen  for  their  sacrilege. 
Yes,  surely  God  must  have  forgotten  His  footstool  1 
So  it  seems  to  the  sorrowful  Jew,  perplexed  at  the 
impunity  with  which  this  crime  has  been  committed. 

But  the  mischief  is  not  confined  to  the  central  shrine. 
It  has  extended  to  remote  country'-  regions  and  simple 
rustic  folk.  The  shepherd's  hut  has  shared  the  fate  of 
the  temple  of  the  Lord.  All  the  habitations  of  Jacob — a 
phrase  which  in  the  original  points  to  country  cottages 
— have  been  swallowed  up.^  The  holiest  is  not  spared 
on  account  of  its  sanctity,  neither  is  the  lowliest  on 
account  of  its  obscurity.  The  calamity  extends  to  all 
districts,  to  all  things,  to  all  classes. 

If  the  shepherd's  cot  is  contrasted  with  the  temple 
and  the  ark  because  of  its  simplicity,  the  fortress  may 
be  contrasted  with  this  defenceless  hut  because  of  its 
strength.  Yet  even  the  strongholds  have  been  thrown 
down.  More  than  this,  the  action  of  the  Jews'  army 
has  been  paralysed  by  the  God  who  had  been  ifs 
strength  and  support  in  the  glorious  olden  time.  It 
is  as  though  the  right  hand  of  the  warrior  had  been 
seized  from  behind  and  drawn  back  at  the  moment 
when  it  was  raised  to  strike  a  blow  for  deliverance.  The 
consequence  is  that  the  flower  of  the  army,  **  all  that 
were  pleasant  to  the  eye,"  -  are  slain.  Israel  herself 
is  swallowed  up,  while  her  palaces  and  fortresses  are 
demolished. 

The  climax  of  this  mystery  of  Divine  destruction 
is  reached  when  God  destroj-s  His   own  temple.     The 

'  ii.  2.  -  ii.  4. 


136  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

elegist  returns  to  the  dreadful  subject  as  though 
fascinated  by  the  terror  of  it.  God  has  violently  taken 
away  His  tabernacle.^  The  old  historic  name  of  the 
sanctuary  of  Israel  recurs  at  this  crisis  of  ruin  ;  and 
it  is  particularly  appropriate  to  the  image  which  follows, 
an  image  which  possibly  it  suggested.  If  we  are  to 
understand  the  metaphor  of  the  sixth  verse  as  it  is 
rendered  in  the  English  Authorised  and  Revised  Ver- 
sions, we  have  to  suppose  a  reference  to  some  such 
booth  of  boughs  as  people  v/ere  accustomed  to  put  up 
for  their  shelter  during  the  vintage,  and  which  would 
be  removed  as  soon  as  it  had  served  its  temporary 
purpose.  The  solid  temple  buildings  had  been  swept 
away  as  easily  as  though  they  were  just  such  flimsy 
structures,  as  though  they  had  been  "  of  a  garden." 
But  we  can  read  the  text  more  literally,  and  still  find 
good  sense  in  it.  According  to  the  strict  translation  of 
the  original,  God  is  said  to  have  violently  taken  away 
His  tabernacle  "as  a  garden."  At  the  siege  of  a  city 
the  fruit  gardens  that  encircle  it  are  the  first  victims  of 
the  destroyer's  axe.  Lying  out  beyond  the  walls  they 
are  entirely  unprotected,  while  the  impediments  they 
offer  to  the  movements  of  troops  and  instruments  of 
war  induce  the  commander  to  order  their  early  demoli- 
tion. Thus  Titus  had  the  trees  cleared  from  the  Mount 
of  Olives,  so  that  one  of  the  first  incidents  in  the  Roman 
siege  of  Jerusalem  must  have  been  the  destruction  of 
the  Garden  of  Gethsemane.  Now  the  poet  compares 
the  ease  with  which  the  great,  massive  temple — itself 
a  powerful  fortress,  and  enclosed  within  the  city  walls — 
was  demolished,  with  the  simple  process  of  scouring  the 
outlying  gardens.    So  the  place  of  assembly  disappears, 


i.  6. 


ii.  1-9.]  GOD  AS  AN  ENEMY 


and  with  it  the  assembly  itself,  so  that  even  the  sacred 
Sabbath  is  passed  over  and  forgotten.  Then  the  two 
heads  of  the  nation — the  king,  its  civil  ruler,  and  the 
priest,  its  ecclesiastical  chief — are  both  despised  in  the 
indignation  of  God's  anger. 

The  central  object  of  the  sacred  shrine  is  the  altar, 
where  earth,  seems  to  meet  heaven  in  the  high  mystery 
of  sacrifice.  Here  men  seek  to  propitiate  God ;  here 
too  God  would  be  expected  to  shew  Himself  gracious  to 
men.  Yet  God  has  even  cast  off  His  altar,  abhorring 
His  very  sanctuary.^  Where  mercy  is  most  confidently 
anticipated,  there  of  all  places  nothing  but  wrath  and 
rejection  are  to  be  found.  What  prospect  could  be 
more  hopeless  ? 

The  deeper  thought  that  God  rejects  His  sanctuary 
because  His  people  have  first  rejected  Him  is  not 
brought  forward  just  now.  Yet  this  solution  of  the 
mystery  is  prepared  by  a  contemplation  of  the  utter 
failure  of  the  old  ritual  of  atonement.  Evidently  that  is 
not  always  effective,  for  here  it  has  broken  down 
entirely  ;  then  can  it  ever  be  inherently  efficacious  ? 
It  cannot  be  enough  to  trust  to  a  sanctuary  and  cere- 
monies which  God  Himself  destroys.  But  further,  out 
of  this  scene  which  was  so  perplexing  to  the  pious  Jew, 
there  flashes  to  us  the  clear  truth  that  nothing  is  so 
abominable  in  the  sight  of  God  as  an  attempt  to  worship 
Him  on  the  part  of  people  who  are  living  at  enmity 
with  Him.  We  can  also  perceive  that  if  God  shatters 
our  sanctuary,  perhaps  He  does  so  in  order  to  prevent 
us  from  making  a  fetich  of  it.  Then  the  loss  of  shrine 
and  altar  and  ceremony  may  be  the  saving  of  the 
superstitious  worshipper  who  is  thereby  taught  to  turn 
to  some  more  stable  source  of  confidence. 


138  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

This,  however,  is  not  the  hne  of  reflections  followed 
by  the  elegist  in  the  present  instance.  His  mind  is 
possessed  with  one  dark,  awful,  crushing  thought.  All 
this  is  God's  work.  And  why  has  God  done  it  ?  The 
answer  to  that  question  is  the  idea  that  here  dominates 
the  mind  of  the  poet.  It  is  because  God  has  become  an 
enemy  !  There  is  no  attempt  to  mitigate  the  force  of 
this  daring  idea.  It  is  stated  in  the  strongest  possible 
terms,  and  repeated  again  and  again  at  every  turn — 
Israel's  cloud  is  the  effect  of  God's  anger  ;  it  has  come 
in  the  day  of  His  anger;  God  is  acting  with  fierce 
anger,  with  a  flaming  fire  of  wrath.  This  must  mean 
that  God  is  decidedly  inimical.  He  is  behaving  as  an 
adversary  ;  He  bends  His  bow  ;  He  manifests  violence. 
It  is  not  merely  that  God  permits  the  adversaries  of 
Israel  to  commit  their  ravages  with  impunity ;  God 
commits  those  ravages  ;  He  is  Himself  the  enemy.  He 
shews  indignation.  He  despises.  He  abhors.  And  this 
is  all  deliberate.  The  destruction  is  carried  out  with 
the  same  care  and  exactitude  that  characterise  the 
erection  of  a  building.  It  is  as  though  it  were  done 
with  a  measuring  line.     God  surveys  to  destroy. 

The  first  thing  to  be  noticed  in  this  unhesitating 
ascription  to  God  of  positive  enmity  is  the  striking 
evidence  it  contains  of  faith  in  the  Divine  power,  pre- 
sence, and  activity.  These  were  no  more  visible  to  the 
mere  observer  of  events  in  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem 
than  in  the  shattering  of  the  French  empire  at  Sedan. 
In  the  one  case  as  in  the  other  all  that  the  world  could 
see  was  a  crushing  military  defeat  and  its  fatal  conse- 
quences. The  victorious  army  of  the  Babylonians 
filled  the  field  as  completely  in  the  old  time  as  that  of 
the  Germans  in  the  modern  event.  Yet  the  poet  simply 
ignores  its  existence.     He  passes  it  with  sublime  in- 


ii.  1-9.]  GOD  AS  AN  ENEMY  139 

difference,  his  mind  filled  with  the  thought  of  the  unseen 
Power  behind.  He  has  not  a  word  for  Nebuchadnezzar, 
because  he  is  assured  that  this  mighty  monarch  is 
nothing  but  a  tool  in  the  hands  of  the  real  Enemy  of 
the  Jews.  A  man  of  smaller  faith  would  not  have 
penetrated  sufficiently  beneath  the  surface  to  have  con- 
ceived the  idea  of  Divine  enmity  in  connection  with  a 
series  of  occurrences  so  very  mundane  as  the  ravages 
of  war.  A  heathenish  faith  would  have  acknowledged 
in  this  defeat  of  Israel  a  triumph  of  the  might  of  Bel  or 
Nebo  over  the  power  of  Jehovah.  But  so  convinced  i.":- 
the  elegist  of  the  absolute  supremacy  of  his  God  that  no 
such  idea  is  suggested  to  him  even  as  a  temptation  of 
unbeHef  He  knows  that  the  action  of  the  true  God  is 
supreme  in  everything  that  happens,  whether  the  event 
be  favourable  or  unfavourable  to  His  people.  Perhaps 
it  is  only  owing  to  the  dreary  materialism  of  current 
thought  that  we  should  be  less  likely  to  discover  an 
indication  of  the  enmity  of  God  in  some  huge  national 
calamity. 

Still,  although  this  idea  of  the  elegist  is  a  fruit  of  his 
unshaken  faith  in  the  universal  sway  of  God,  it  startles 
and  shocks  us,  and  we  shrink  from  it  almost  as  though 
it  contained  some  blasphemous  suggestion.  Is  it  ever 
right  to  think  of  God  as  the  enemy  of  any  man  ?  It 
would  not  be  fair  to  pass  judgment  on  the  author  of  the 
Lamentations  on  the  ground  of  a  cold  consideration  of 
this  abstract  question.  We  must  remember  the  terrible 
situation  in  which  he  stood — his  beloved  city  destroyed, 
the  revered  temple  of  his  fathers  a  mass  of  charred 
ruins,  his  people  scattered  in  exile  and  captivity,  tor- 
tured, slaughtered ;  these  were  not  circumstances  to 
encourage  a  course  of  calm  and  measured  reflection. 
We  must  not  expect  the  sufferer  to  carry  out  an  exact 


I40  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

chemical  analysis  of  his  cup  of  woe  before  uttering  an 
exclamation  on  its  quality  ;  and  if  it  should  be  that 
the  burning  taste  induces  him  to  speak  too  strongly  of 
its  ingredients,  we  who  only  see  him  swallow  it  without 
being  required  to  taste  a  drop  ourselves  should  be  slow 
to  examine  his  language  too  nicely.  He  who  has  never 
entered  Gethsemane  is  not  in  a  position  to  understand 
how  dark  may  be  the  views  of  all  things  seen  beneath 
its  sombre  shade.  If  the  Divine  sufferer  on  the  cross 
could  speak  as  though  His  God  had  actually  deserted 
Him,  are  we  to  condemn  an  Old  Testament  saint  when 
he  ascribes  unspeakably  great  troubles  to  the  enmity 
of  God  ? 

Is  this,  then,  but  the  rhetoric  of  misery  ?  If  it  be 
no  more,  while  we  seek  to  sympathise  with  the  feelings 
of  a  very  dramatic  situation,  we  shall  not  be  called 
upon  to  go  further  and  discover  in  the  language  of  the 
poet  any  positive  teaching  about  God  and  His  ways 
with  man.  But  are  we  at  liberty  to  stop  short  here  ? 
Is  the  elegist  only  expressing  his  own  feelings  ?  Have 
we  a  right  to  affirm  that  there  can  be  no  objective  truth 
in  the  awful  idea  of  the  enmity  of  God  ? 

In  considering  this  question  we  must  be  careful  to 
dismiss  from  our  minds  the  unworthy  associations  that 
only  too  commonly  attach  themselves  to  notions  of 
enmity  among  men.  Hatred  cannot  be  ascribed  to 
One  whose  deepest  name  is  Love.  No  spite,  malignity, 
or  evil  passion  of  any  kind  can  be  found  in  the  heart 
of  the  Holy  God.  When  due  weight  is  given  to  these 
negations  very  much  that  we  usually  see  in  the  practice 
of  enmity  disappears.  But  this  is  not  to  say  that  the 
idea  itself  is  denied,  or  the  fact  shown  to  be  impossible. 

In  the  first  place,  we  have  no  warrant  for  asserting 
that  God  will  never  act  in  direct  and  intentional  oppo- 


ii.  1-9.]  GOD  AS  AN  ENEMY 


sition  to  any  of  His  creatures.  There  is  one  obvious 
occasion  when  He  certainly  does  this.  The  man  who 
resists  the  laws  of  nature  finds  those  laws  working 
against  Him.  He  is  not  merely  running  his  head 
against  a  stone  wall ;  the  laws  are  not  inert  obstructions 
in  the  path  of  the  transgressor ;  they  represent  forces 
in  action.  That  is  to  say,  they  resist  their  opponent 
with  vigorous  antagonism.  In  themselves  they  are 
blind,  and  they  bear  him  no  ill-will.  But  the  Being 
who  wields  the  forces  is  not  blind  or  indifferent.  The 
laws  of  nature  are,  as  Kingsley  said,  but  the  ways  of 
God.  If  they  are  opposing  a  man  God  is  opposing 
that  man.  But  God  does  not  confine  His  action  to  the 
realm  of  physical  processes.  His  providence  works 
through  the  whole  course  of  events  in  the  world's 
history.  What  we  see  evidently  operating  in  nature 
we  may  infer  to  be  equally  active  in  less  visible  regions. 
Then  if  we  believe  in  a  God  who  rules  and  works  in  the 
world,  we  cannot  suppose  that  His  activity  is  confined 
to  aiding  what  is  good.  It  is  unreasonable  to  imagine 
that  He  stands  aside  in  passive  negligence  of  evil. 
And  if  He  concerns  Himself  to  thwart  evil,  what  is 
this  but  manifesting  Himself  as  the  enemy  of  the 
evildoer  ? 

It  may  be  contended,  on  the  other  side,  that  there  is 
a  world  of  difference  between  antagonistic  actions  and 
unfriendly  feelings,  and  that  the  former  by  no  means 
imply  the  latter.  May  not  God  oppose  a  man  who  is 
doing  wrong,  not  at  all  because  He  is  his  Enemy,  but 
just  because  He  is  his  truest  Friend  ?  Is  it  not  an  act 
of  real  kindness  to  save  a  man  from  himself  when  his 
own  will  is  leading  him  astray  ?  This  of  course  must 
be  granted,  and  being  granted,  it  will  certainly  affect 
our  views  of  the  ultimate   issues  of  what  we  may  be 


142  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

compelled  to  regard  in  its  present  operation  as  nothing 
short  of  Divine  antagonism.  It  may  remind  us  that 
the  motives  lying  behind  the  most  inimical  action  on 
God's  part  may  be  merciful  and  kind  in  their  aims. 
Still,  for  the  time  being,  the  opposition  is  a  reality,  and 
a  reality  which  to  all  intents  and  purposes  is  one  of 
enmity,  since  it  resists,  frustrates,  hurts. 

Nor  is  this  all.  We  have  no  reason  to  deny  that 
God  can  have  real  anger.  Is  it  not  right  and  just 
that  He  should  be  "  angry  with  the  wicked  every 
day "  ?  ^  Would  He  not  be  imperfect  in  holiness, 
would  He  not  be  less  than  God  if  He  could  behold 
vile  deeds  springing  from  vile  hearts  with  placid  in- 
difference ?  We  must  believe  that  Jesus  Christ  was 
as  truly  revealing  the  Father  when  He  was  moved 
with  indignation  as  when  He  was  moved  with  com- 
passion. His  life  shows  quite  clearly  that  He  was 
the  enemy  of  oppressors  and  hypocrites,  and  He 
plainly  declared  that  He  came  to  bring  a  sword.^  His 
mission  was  a  war  against  all  evil,  and  therefore, 
though  not  waged  with  carnal  weapons,  a  war  against 
evil  men.  The  Jewish  authorities  were  perfectly  right 
in  perceiving  this  fact.  They  persecuted  Him  as  their 
enemy ;  and  He  was  their  enemy.  This  statement  is 
no  contradiction  to  the  gracious  truth  that  He  desired 
to  save  all  men,  and  therefore  even  these  men.  If 
God's  enmity  to  any  soul  were  eternal  it  would  conflict 
with  His  love.  It  cannot  be  that  He  wishes  the 
ultimate  ruin  of  one  of  His  own  children.  But  if  He 
is  at  the  present  time  actively  opposing  a  man,  and  if 
He  is  doing  this  in  anger,  in  the  wrath  of  righteousness 
against  sin,  it  is  only  quibbling  with  words  to  deny  that 

'  Psalm  vii.  ii,  -  Matt.  x.  34. 


ii.  1-9.]  GOD  AS  AN  ENEMY  143 

for  the  time  being  He  is  a  very  real  enemy  to  that 
man. 

The  current  of  thought  in  the  present  day  is  not  in 
any  sympathy  with  this  idea  of  God  as  an  Enemy, 
partly  in  its  revulsion  from  harsh  and  un-Christlike 
conceptions  of  God,  partly  also  on  account  of  the 
modern  humanitarianism  which  almost  loses  sight  of 
sin  in  its  absorbing  love  of  mercy.  But  the  tre- 
mendous fact  of  the  Divine  enmity  towards  the  sinful 
man  so  long  as  he  persists  in  his  sin  is  not  to  be 
lightly  brushed  aside.  It  is  not  wise  wholly  to  forget 
that  "  our  God  is  a  consuming  fire."  ^  It  is  in  con- 
sideration of  this  dread  truth  that  the  atonement 
wrought  by  His  Son  according  to  His  own  will  of  love 
is  discovered  to  be  an  action  of  vital  efficacy,  and  not 
a  mere  scenic  display. 

'  Heb.  xii.  29. 


CHAPTER    VIII 

THE  CRY  OF   THE  CHHDREN 

ii.  IO-I7 

PASSION  and  poetry,  when  they  fire  the  imagina- 
tion, do  more  than  personify  individual  material 
things.  By  fusing  the  separate  objects  in  the  crucible 
of  a  common  emotion  which  in  some  way  appertains 
to  them  all,  they  personify  this  grand  unity,  and  so 
lift  their  theme  into  the  region  of  the  sublime.  Thus 
while  in  his  second  elegy  the  author  of  the  Lamenta- 
tions first  dwells  on  the  desolation  of  inanimate  objects, 
— the  temple,  fortresses,  country  cottages, — these  are 
all  of  interest  to  him  only  because  they  belong  to  Jeru- 
salem, the  city  of  his  heart's  devotion,  and  it  is  the 
city  herself  that  moves  his  deepest  feelings  ;  and  when 
in  the  second  part  of  the  poem  he  proceeds  to  describe 
the  miserable  condition  of  living  persons — men,  women, 
and  children  —profoundly  pathetic  as  the  picture  he  now 
paints  appears  to  us  in  its  piteous  details,  it  is  still 
regarded  by  its  author  as  a  whole,  and  the  people's 
sufferings  are  so  very  terrible  in  his  e3'es  because  they 
are  the  woes  of  Jerusalem. 

Some  attempt  to  S3mipathise  with  the  large  and  lofty 

view  of  the  elegist  may  be  a  wholesome  corrective  to 

the  intense  individualism  of  modern  habits  of  thought. 

The  difficulty   for  us  is   to  see  that   this  view  is   not 

144 


\ 


[0-17.]  THE  CRY  OF  THE  CHHDREN  145 


merely  ideal,  that  it  represents  a  great,  solid  truth,  the 
truth  that  the  perfect  human  unit  is  not  an  individual, 
but  a  more  or  less  extensive  group  of  persons,  mutually 
harmonised  and  organised  in  a  common  life,  a  society 
of  some  sort — the  family,  the  city,  the  state,  mankind. 
By  bearing  this  in  mind  we  shall  be  able  to  perceive 
that  sufferings  which  in  themselves  might  seem  sordid 
and  degrading  can  attain  to  something  of  epic  dignity. 

It  is  in  this  spirit  that  the  poet  deplores  the  exile  of 
the  king  and  the  princes.  He  is  not  now  concerned  with 
the  private  troubles  of  these  exalted  persons.  Judah 
was  a  limited  monarchy,  though  not  after  the  pattern 
of  government  familiar  to  us,  but  rather  in  the  style  of 
the  Plantagenet  rule,  according  to  which  the  sovereign 
shared  his  authority  with  a  number  of  powerful  barons, 
each  of  whom  was  lord  over  his  own  territory.  The  men 
described  as  "  the  princes  of  Israel"  were  not,  for  the 
most  part,  members  of  the  royal  family  ;  they  were  the 
heads  of  tribes  and  families.  Therefore  the  banishment' 
of  these  persons,  together  with  the  king,  meant  for  the 
Jews  who  were  left  behind  the  loss  of  their  ruling  autho- 
rities. Then  it  seems  most  reasonable  to  connect  the 
clause  which  follows  the  reference  to  the  exile  with  the 
sufferings  of  Jerusalem  rather  than  with  the  hardships 
of  the  captives,  because  the  whole  context  is  concerned 
with  the  former  subject.  This  phrase  read  literally  is, 
"  The  law  is  not."  ^  Our  Revisers  have  followed  the 
Authorised  Version  in  connecting  it  with  the  previous 
expression,  "among  the  nations,"  which  describes  the 
place  of  exile,  so  as  to  lead  us  to  read  it  as  a  statement 
that  the  king  and  the  princes  were  enduring  the  hard- 
ship of  residence  in  a  land  where  their  sacred  Tomh  was 


'  ii.  9. 


146  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

not  observed.  If,  however,  we  take  the  words  in  har- 
mony with  the  surrounding  thoughts,  we  are  reminded 
by  them  that  the  removal  of  the  national  rulers  involved 
to  the  Jews  the  cessation  of  the  administration  of  their 
law.  The  residents  still  left  in  the  land  were  reduced 
to  a  condition  of  anarchy  ;  or,  if  the  conquerors  had 
begun  to  administer  some  sort  of  martial  law,  this  was 
totally  alien  to  the  revered  Torah  of  Israel.  Josiah  had 
based  his  reformation  on  the  discovery  of  the  sacred 
law-book.  But  the  mere  possession  of  this  was  little 
consolation  if  it  was  not  administered,  for  the  Jews  had 
not  fallen  to  the  condition  of  the  Samaritans  of  later 
times  who  came  to  worship  the  roll  of  the  Pentateuch 
as  an  idol.  They  were  not  even  like  the  scribes  and 
Talmudists  among  their  own  descendants,  to  whom  the 
law  itself  was  a  religion,  though  only  read  in  the  cloister 
of  the  student.  The  loss  of  good  government  was  to 
them  a  very  solid  evil.  In  a  civilised  country,  in  times 
of  peace  and  order,  we  breathe  law  as  we  breathe  air, 
unconsciously,  too  familiar  with  it  to  appreciate  the 
immeasurable  benefits  it  confers  upon  us. 

With  the  banishment  of  the  custodians  of  law  the 
poet  associates  the  accompanying  silence  of  the  voice 
of  prophecy.  This,  however,  is  so  important  and 
significant  a  fact,  that  it  must  be  reserved  for  separate 
and  fuller  treatment.^ 

Next  to  the  princes  come  the  elders,  to  whom  was 
intrusted  the  administration  of  justice  in  the  minor 
courts.  These  were  not  sent  into  captivity ;  for  at  first 
only  the  aristocracy  was  considered  sufficiently  im- 
portant to  be  carried  off  to  Babylon.  But  though  the 
elders   were   left   in    the   land,    the    country   was   too 

'  See  next  chapter. 


ii.io-i;.]  THE   CRY  OF  THE  CHILDREN  147 

disorganised  for  them  to  be  able  to  hold  their  local 
tribunals.  Perhaps  these  were  forbidden  by  tl^e  in- 
vaders ;  perhaps  the  elders  had  no  heart  to  decide 
cases  when  they  saw  no  means  of  getting  their  decisions 
executed.  Accordingly  instead  of  appearing  in  dignity 
as  the  representatives  of  law  and  order  among  their 
neighbours  the  most  respected  citizens  sit  in  silence  on 
the  ground,  girded  in  sackcloth,  and  casting  dust  over 
their  heads,  living  pictures  of  national  mourning.^ 

The  virgins  of  Jerusalem  are  named  immediately 
after  the  elders.  Their  position  in  the  city  is  very 
different  from  that  of  the  "grave  and  reverend  signiors  "; 
but  we  are  to  see  that  while  the  dignity  of  age  and 
rank  affords  no  immunity  from  trouble,  the  gladsome- 
ness  of  youth  and  its  comparative  irresponsibility  are 
equally  ineffectual  as  safeguards.  The  elders  and  the 
virgins  have  one  characteristic  in  common.  They  are 
both  silent.  These  young  girls  are  the  choristers 
whose  clear,  sweet  voices  used  to  ring  out  in  strains  of 
joy  at  every  festival.  Now  both  the  grave  utterances 
of  magistrates  and  the  blithe  singing  of  maidens  are 
hushed  into  one  gloomy  silence.  Formerly  the  girls 
would  dance  to  the  sound  of  song  and  cymbal.  How 
changed  must  things  be  that  the  once  gay  dancers  sit 
with  their  heads  bowed  to  the  ground,  as  still  as  the 
mourning  elders  ! 

But  now,  like  Dante  when  introduced  by  his  guide  to 
some  exceptionally  agonising  spectacle  in  the  infernal 
regions,  the  poet  bursts  into  tears,  and  seems  to  feel  his 
very  being  melting  away  at  the  contemplation  of  the  most 
heart-rending  scene  in  the  many  mournful  tableaux  of 
the  woes  of  Jerusalem.     Breaking  off  from  his  recital 


148  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


of  the  facts  to  express  his  personal  distress  in  view  of 
the  next  item,  he  prepares  us  for  some  rare  and  dread- 
ful exhibition  of  misery ;  and  the  tale  that  he  has 
to  tell  is  quite  enough  to  account  for  the  start  of 
horror  with  which  it  is  ushered  in.  The  poet  makes 
us  listen  to  the  cry  of  the  children.  There  are  babies 
at  the  breast  fainting  from  hunger,  and  older  children, 
able  to  speak,  but  not  yet  able  to  comprehend  the 
helpless  circumstances  in  which  their  miserable  parents 
are  placed,  calling  to  their  mothers  for  food  and 
drink — a  piercing  appeal,  enough  to  drive  to  the  mad- 
ness of  grief  and  despair.  Crying  in  vain  for  the 
first  necessaries  of  hfe,  these  poor  children,  hke  the 
younger  infants,  faint  in  the  streets,  and  cast  themselves 
on  their  mothers'  bosoms  to  die.^  This,  then,  is  the 
picture  in  contemplation  of  which  the  poet  completely 
breaks  down — children  swooning  in  sight  of  all  the 
people,  and  dying  of  hunger  in  their  mothers'  arms  ! 
He  must  be  recaUing  scenes  of  the  late  siege.  Then 
the  fainting  little  ones,  as  they  sank  down  pale  and  ill, 
resembled  the  wounded  men  who  crept  back  from  the 
fight  by  the  walls  to  fall  and  die  in  the  streets  of  the 
beleaguered  city. 

This  is  just  the  sharpest  sting  in  the  sufferings  of  the 
children.  They  share  the  fearful  fate  of  their  seniors, 
and  yet  they  have  had  no  part  in  the  causes  that  led 
to  it.  We  are  naturally  perplexed  as  well  as  dis- 
tressed at  this  piteous  spectacle  of  childhood.  The 
beauty,  the  simplicity,  the  weakness,  the  tenderness, 
the  sensitiveness,  the  helplessness  of  infancy  ap- 
peal to  our  sympathies  with  peculiar  force.  But  over 
and    above    thes'e    touching   considerations    there  is    a 


[0-I7.]  THE   CRY  OF    THE   CHHDREN  149 


mystery  attaching  to  the  whole  subject  of  the  presence 
of  pain  and  sorrow  in  young  Hves  that  baffles  all 
reasoning.  It  is  not  only  hard  to  understand  why  the 
bud  should  be  blighted  before  it  has  had  time  to  open 
to  the  sunshine  :  this  haste  in  the  march  of  misery  to 
meet  her  victims  on  the  threshold  of  hfe  is  to  our  minds 
a  very  amazing  sight.  And  yet  it  is  not  the  most 
perplexing  part  of  the  problem  raised  by  the  mystery 
of  the  suffering  of  children. 

When  we  turn  to  the  moral  elements  of  the  case  we 
encounter  its  most  serious  difficulties.  Children  may 
not  be  accounted  innocent  in  the  absolute  sense  of  the 
word.  Even  unconscious  infants  come  into  the  world 
with  hereditary  tendencies  to  the  evil  habits  of  their 
ancestors  ;  but  then  every  principle  of  justice  resists  the 
attachment  of  guilt  or  responsibility  to  an  unsought 
and  undeserved  inheritance.  And  although  children 
soon  commit  offences  on  their  own  account,  it  is  not 
the  consequences  of  these  3^outhful  follies  that  here 
trouble  us.  The  cruel  wrongs  of  childhood  that  over- 
shadow the  v.-orld's  history  with  its  darkest  mystery 
have  travelled  on  to  their  victims  from  quite  other 
regions— regions  of  which  the  poor  little  sufferers  are 
ignorant  with  the  ignorance  of  perfect  innocence.  Why 
do  children  thus  share  in  evils"  they  had  no  hand  in 
bringing  upon  the  community  ? 

It  is  perhaps  well  that  we  should  acknowledge  quite 
frankly  that  there  are  mysteries  in  life  which  no  inge- 
nuity of  thought  can  fathom.  The  suffering  of  child- 
hood is  one  of  the  greatest  of  these  apparently  insoluble 
riddles  of  the  universe.  We  have  to  learn  that  in  view 
of  such  a  problem  as  is  here  raised  we  too  are  but 
infants  crying  in  the  night. 

Still  there  is  no  occasion  for  us  to  aggravate  the  riddle 


I50  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

by  adding  to  it  manufactured  difficulties ;  we  may  even 
admit  such  mitigation  of  its  severity  as  the  facts  of  the 
case  suggest.  When  little  children  suffer  and  die  in 
their  innocence  they  are  free  at  least  from  those  agonies 
of  remorse  for  the  irrecoverable  past,  and  of  appre- 
hension concerning  the  doom  of  the  future,  that  haunt 
the  minds  of  guilty  men,  and  frequently  far  exceed  the 
physical  pains  endured.  Beneath  their  hardest  woes 
they  have  a  peace  of  God  that  is  the  counterpart  of  the 
martyr's  serenity. 

Nevertheless,  when  we  have  said  all  that  can  be  said  in 
this  direction,  there  remains  the  sickening  fact  that  chil- 
dren do  suffer  and  pine  and  die.  Still  though  this  cannot 
be  explained  away,  there  are  two  truths  that  we  should  set 
beside  it  before  we  attempt  to  form  any  judgment  on  the 
whole  subject.  The  first  is  that  taught  so  emphatically 
by  our  Lord  when  He  declared  that  the  victims  of  an 
accident  or  the  sufferers  in  an  indiscriminate  slaughter 
were  not  to  be  accounted  exceptional  sinners.^  But  if 
suffering  is  by  no  means  a  sign  of  sin  in  the  victim  we 
may  go  further,  and  deny  that  it  is  in  all  respects  an 
evil.  It  may  be  impossible  for  us  to  accept  the  Stoic 
paradox  in  the  case  of  little  children  whom  even  the 
greatest  pedant  would  scarcely  attempt  to  console  with 
philosophic  maxims.  In  the  endurance  of  them,  the 
pain  and  sorrow  and  death  of  the  young  cannot  but 
seem  to  us  most  real  evils,  and  it  is  our  plain  duty  to 
do  all  in  our  power  to  check  and  stay  everything  of  the 
kind.  We  must  beware  of  the  indolence  that  lays  upon 
Providence  the  burden  of  troubles  that  are  really  due 
to  our  own  inconsiderateness.  In  pursuing  the  policy 
that  led  to  the  disastrous  siege  of  their  city  the  Jews 

'  Luke  xiii    l-s. 


ii.  10-17.]  THE   CRY  OF  THE   CHILDREN  151 

should  have  known  how  many  innocent  victims  would 
be  dragged  into  the  vortex  of  misery  if  the  course  they 
had  chosen  were  to  fail.  The  blind  obstinacy  of  the 
men  who  refused  to  listen  to  the  warnings  so  emphatic- 
ally pronounced  by  the  great  prophets  of  Jehovah,  the 
desperate  self-will  of  these  men,  pitted  against  the 
declared  counsel  of  God,  must  bear  the  blame.  It  is 
monstrous  to  charge  the  providence  of  God  with  the 
consequences  of  actions  that  God  has  forbidden. 

A  second  truth  must  be  added,  for  there  still  remains 
the  difficulty  that  children  are  placed,  by  no  choice  of 
their  own,  in  circumstances  that  render  them  thus  liable 
to  the  effects  of  other  people's  sins  and  follies.  We  can 
never  understand  human  life  if  we  persist  in  considering 
each  person  by  himself  That  we  are  members  one  of 
another,  so  that  if  one  member  suffers  all  the  members 
suffer,  is  the  law  of  human  experience  as  well  as  the 
principle  of  Christian  churchmanship.  Therefore  we 
must  regard  the  wrongs  of  children  that  so  disturb  us 
as  part  of  the  travail  and  woe  of  mankind.  Bad  as  it 
is  in  itself  that  these  innocents  should  be  thus  involved 
in  the  consequences  of  the  misconduct  of  their  elders,  it 
would  not  be  any  improvement  for  them  to  be  cut  off 
from  all  connection  with  their  predecessors  in  the  great 
family  of  mankind.  Taken  on  the  whole,  the  solidarity 
of  man  certainly  makes  more  for  the  welfare  of  child- 
hood than  for  its  disadvantage.  And  we  must  not  think 
of  childhood  alone,  deeply  as  we  are  moved  at  the  sight 
of  its  unmerited  sufferings.  If  children  are  part  of  the 
race,  whatever  children  endure  must  be  taken  as  but 
one  element  in  the  vast  experience  that  goes  to  make 
up  the  life-history  of  mankind. 

All  this  is  very  vague,  and  if  we  offer  it  as  a  conso- 
lation to  a  mother  whose  heart  is  torn  with  anguish  at 


152  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


the  sight  of  her  child's  pain,  it  is  Hkely  she  will  think 
our  balm  no  better  than  the  wormwood  of  mockery. 
It  would  be  vain  for  us  to  imagine  that  we  have  solved 
the  riddle,  and  vainer  to  suppose  that  any  views  of  life 
could  be  set  against  the  unquestionable  fact  that  inno- 
cent children  suffer,  as  though  they  in  the  slightest 
degree  lessened  the  amount  of  this  pain  or  made  it 
appreciabW  easier  to  endure.  But  then,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  mere  existence  of  all  this  terrible  agony 
does  not  justify  us  in  bursting  out  into  tremendous 
denunciations  of  the  universe.  The  thoughts  that  rise 
from  a  consideration  of  the  wider  relations  of  the  facts 
should  teach  us  lessons  of  humility  in  forming  our 
judgment  on  so  vast  a  subject.  We  cannot  deny  the 
existence  of  evils  that  cry  aloud  for  notice  ;  we  cannot 
explain  them  away.  But  at  least  we  can  follow  the 
example  of  the  elders  and  virgins  of  Israel,  and  be 
silent. 

The  portrait  of  misery  that  the  poet  has  drawn  in 
describing  the  condition  of  Jerusalem  during  the  siege 
is  painful  enough  when  viewed  by  itself;  and  yet  he 
proceeds  further,  and  seeks  to  deepen  the  impression 
he  has  already  made  by  setting  the  picture  in  a  suitable 
frame.  So  he  directs  attention  to  the  behaviour  of 
surrounding  peoples.  Jerusalem  is  not  permitted  to 
hide  her  grief  and  shame.  She  is  flung  into  an  arena 
while  a  crowd  of  cruel  spectators  gloat  over  her  agonies. 
These  are  to  be  divided  into  two  classes,  the  uncon- 
cerned and  the  known  enemies.  There  is  not  any 
great  difference  between  them  in  their  treatment  of  the 
miserable  city.  The  unconcerned  *'  hiss  and  wag  their 
heads'';^  the  enemies  "hiss  and  gnash  their  teeth." ^ 

'  li.  15.  -  ii.  16. 


ii.  10-17.]  THE   CRY  OF  THE   CHILDREN  153 

That  is  to  say,  both  add  to  the  misery  of  the  Jews — 
the  one  class  in  mockery,  the  other  in  hatred.  But 
what  are  these  men  at  their  worst  ?  Behind  them  is 
the  real  Power  that  is  the  source  of  all  the  misery. 
If  the  enemy  rejoices  it  is  only  because  God  has  given 
him  the  occasion.  The  Lord  has  been  carrying  out 
His  own  deliberate  intentions ;  nay,  these  events  are 
but  the  execution  of  commands  He  issued  in  the  days 
of  old.'^  This  reads  like  an  anticipation  of  the  Calvin- 
istic  decrees.  But  perhaps  the  poet  is  referring  to  the 
solemn  threatening  of  Divine  Judgment  pronounced 
by  a  succession  of  prophets.  Their  message  had  been 
unheeded  by  their  contemporaries.  Now  it  has  been 
verified  by  history.  Remembering  what  that  message 
was — how  it  predicted  woes  as  the  punishment  of 
sins,  how  it  pointed  out  a  way  of  escape,  how  it  threw 
all  the  responsibility  upon  those  people  who  were 
so  infatuated  as  to  reject  the  warning — we  cannot 
read  into  the  poet's  lines  any  notion  of  absolute  pre- 
destination. 

In  the  midst  of  this  description  of  the  miseries  of 
Jerusalem  the  elegist  confesses  his  own  inability  to 
comfort  her.  He  searches  for  an  image  large  enough 
for  a  just  comparison  with  such  huge  calamities  as  he 
has  in  view.  His  language  resembles  that  of  our  Lord 
when  He  exclaims,  **  Whereunto  shall  I  liken  the 
kingdom  of  God  ?  "  "  a  similarity  which  may  remind  us 
that  if  the  troubles  of  man  are  great  beyond  earthly 
analogy,  so  also  are  the  mercies  of  God.  Compare 
these  two,  and  there  can  be  no  question  as  to  which 
way  the  scale  will  turn.  Where  sin  and  misery  abound 
grace  much  more  abounds.     But  now  the  poet  is  con- 

'  ii.  17.  -  Luke  xiii.  20. 


154  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

cerned  with  the  woes  of  Jerusalem,  and  he  can  only 
find  one  image  with  which  these  woes  are  at  all  com- 
parable. Her  breach,  he  says,  "  is  great  like  the  sea,"  ^ 
meaning  that  her  calamities  are  vast  and  terrible  as  the 
sea ;  or  perhaps  that  the  ruin  of  Jerusalem  is  like  that 
produced  by  the  breaking  in  of  the  sea — a  striking 
image  in  its  application  to  an  inland  mountain  city ; 
for  no  place  was  really  safer  from  any  such  cataclysm 
than  Jerusalem.  The  analogy  is  intentionally  far- 
fetched. What  might  naturally  happen  to  Tyre,  but 
could  not  possibly  reach  Jerusalem,  is  nevertheless  the 
only  conceivable  type  of  the  events  that  have  actually 
befallen  this  ill-fated  city.  The  Jews  were  not  a 
maritime  people.  To  them  the  sea  was  no  delight  such 
as  it  is  to  us.  They  spoke  of  it  with  terror,  and  shud- 
dered to  hear  from  afar  of  its  ravages.  Now  the 
deluge  of  their  own  troubles  is  compared  to  the  great 
and  terrible   sea. 

The  poet  can  offer  no  comfort  for  such  misery  as 
this.  His  confession  of  helplessness  agrees  with  what 
we  must  have  perceived  already,  namely,  that  the  Book 
of  Lamentations  is  not  a  book  of  consolations.  It  is 
not  always  easy  to  see  that  the  sympathy  which  mourns 
with  the  sufferer  may  be  quite  unable  to  relieve  him. 
The  too  common  mistake  of  the  friend  who  comes  to 
show  sympathy  is  Bildad's  and  his  companions'  notion 
that  he  is  called  upon  to  offer  advice.  Why  should 
one  who  is  not  in  the  school  of  afQiction  assume  the 
function  of  pedagogue  to  a  pupil  of  that  school,  who 
by  reason  of  the  mere  fact  of  his  presence  there  should 
rather  be  deemed  fit  to  instruct  the  outsider  ? 

If  he  cannot  comfort  Jerusalem,  however,  the  elegist 


ii.  13. 


ii.  IO-I7.]  THE  CRY  OF  THE   CHILDREN  155 

will  pray  with  her.  His  latest  reference  to  the  Divine 
source  of  the  troubles  of  the  Jews  leads  him  on  to  a 
cry  to  God  for  mercy  on  the  miserable  people.  Though 
he  may  not  yet  see  the  gospel  of  grace  which  is  the  only 
thing  greater  than  the  sin  and  misery  of  man,  he  can 
point  towards  the  direction  in  which  that  glorious  gospel 
is  to  dawn  on  the  eyes  of  weary  sufferers.  Here,  if  any- 
where, is  the  solution  of  the  mystery  of  misery. 


CHAPTER    IX 

PROPHETS    WITHOUT  A    VISION 
ii.  9,  14 

IN  deploring  the  losses  suffered  by  the  daughter  of 
Zion  the  elegist  bewails  the  failure  of  her  prophets 
to  obtain  a  vision  from  Jehovah.  His  language  implies 
that  these  men  were  still  lingering  among  the  ruins  of 
the  city.  Apparently  they  had  not  been  considered  by 
the  invaders  of  sufficient  importance  to  require  trans- 
portation with  Zedekiah  and  the  princes.  Thus  they 
were  within  reach  of  inquirers,  and  doubtless  they  were 
more  than  ever  in  request  at  a  time  when  many  per- 
plexed persons  were  anxious  for  pilotage  through  a  sea 
of  troubles.  It  would  seem,  too,  that  they  were  trying 
to  execute  their  professional  functions.  They  sought 
light  ;  they  looked  in  the  right  direction — to  God. 
Yet  their  quest  was  vain ;  no  vision  was  given  to 
them ;  the  oracles  were  dumb. 

To  understand  the  situation  v/e  must  recollect  the 
normal  place  of  prophecy  in  the  social  life  of  Israel. 
The  great  prophets  whose  names  and  works  have  come 
down  to  us  in  Scripture  were  always  rare  and  excep- 
tional men — voices  crying  in  the  wilderness.  Possibly 
they  were  not  m^ore  scarce  at  this  time  than  at  other 
periods.  Jeremiah  had  not  been  disappointed  in  his 
search  for   a   Divine  message.^     The  greatest   seer  of 

'  See  Jer.  xlii.  4,  7. 
156 


ii.9,  I4-]  PROPHETS   WITHOUT  A    VISION  157 

visions  ever  known  to  the  world,  Ezekiel,  had  already 
appeared  among  the  captives  by  the  waters  of  Babylon. 
Before  long  the  sublime  prophet  of  the  restoration  was 
to  sound  his  trumpet  blast  to  awaken  courage  and  hope 
in  the  exiles.  Though  pitched  in  a  minor  key,  these 
very  elegies  bear  witness  to  the  fact  that  their  gentle 
author  was  not  wholly  deficient  in  prophetic  fire. 
This  was  not  an  age  like  the  time  of  Samuel's  youth, 
barren  of  Divine  voices.-^  It  is  true  that  the  inspired 
voices  were  now  scattered  over  distant  regions  far 
from  Jerusalem,  the  ancient  seat  of  prophecy.  Yet 
the  idea  of  the  elegist  is  that  the  prophets  who  might 
be  still  seen  at  the  site  of  the  city  were  deprived  of 
visions.  These  must  have  been  quite  different  men. 
Evidently  they  were  the  professional  prophets,  officials 
who  had  been  trained  in  music  and  dancing  to 
appear  as  choristers  on  festive  occasions,  the  equivalent 
of  the  modern  dervishes  ;  but  who  were  also  sought 
after  like  the  seer  of  Ramah,  to  whom  young  Saul 
resorted  for  information  about  his  father's  lost  asses, 
as  simple  soothsayers.  Such  assistance  as  these  men 
were  expected  to  give  was  no  longer  forthcoming  at 
the  request  of  troubled  souls. 

The  low  and  sordid  uses  to  which  every-day  prophecy 
was  degraded  may  incline  us  to  conclude  that  the 
cessation  of  it  was  no  very  great  calamity,  and  perhaps 
to  suspect  that  from  first  to  last  the  whole  business  was 
a  mass  of  superstition  affording  large  opportunities  for 
charlatanry.  But  it  would  be  rash  to  adopt  this  ex- 
treme view  without  a  fuller  consideration  of  the  subject. 
The  great  messengers  of  Jehovah  frequently  speak  of 
the  professional  prophets  with  the  contempt  of  Socrates 

'  See  I  Sam.  iii.  i. 


IS8  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

for  the  professional  sophists ;  and  yet  the  rebukes 
which  they  administer  to  these  men  for  their  unfaith- 
fulness show  that  they  accredit  them  with  important 
duties  and  the  gifts  with  which  to  execute  them. 

Thus  the  lament  of  the  elegist  suggests  a  real  loss 
— something  more  serious  than  the  failure  of  assistance 
such  as  some  Roman  Catholics  try  to  obtain  from 
St,  Anthony  in  the  discovery  of  lost  property.  The 
prophets  were  regarded  as  the  media  of  communication 
between  heaven  and  earth.  It  was  because  of  the  low 
and  narrow  habits  of  the  people  that  their  gifts  were 
often  put  to  low  and  narrow  uses  which  savoured  rather 
of  superstition  than  of  devotion.  The  belief  that  God 
did  not  only  reveal  His  will  to  great  persons  and  on 
momentous  occasions  helped  to  make  Israel  a  religious 
nation.  That  there  were  humble  gifts  of  prophecy  within 
the  reach  of  the  many,  and  that  these  gifts  were  for  the 
helping  of  men  and  women  in  their  simplest  needs,  was 
one  of  the  articles  of  the  Hebrew  faith.  The  quenching 
of  a  host  of  smaller  stars  may  involve  as  much  loss  of 
life  as  that  of  a  few  brilliant  ones.  If  prophecy  fades 
out  from  among  the  people,  if  the  vision  of  God  is  no 
longer  perceptible  in  daily  life,  if  the  Church,  as  a  whole, 
is  plunged  into  gloom,  it  is  of  little  avail  to  her  that  a 
few  choice  souls  here  and  there  pierce  the  mists  like 
solitary  mountain  peaks  so  as  to  stand  alone  in  the 
clear  light  of  heaven.  The  perfect  condition  would  be 
that  in  which  "all  the  Lord's  people  were  prophets." 
If  this  is  not  yet  attainable,  at  all  events  we  may 
rejoice  when  the  capacity  for  communion  with  heaven 
is  widely  enjoyed,  and  we  must  deplore  it  as  one  of  the 
greatest  calamities  of  the  Church  that  the  quickening 
influence  of  the  prophetic  spirit  should  be  absent  from 
her  assemblies.     The  Jews  had  not  fallen  so  low  that 


ii.9,  14]  PROPHETS    WITHOUT  A    VISION  159 

they  could  contemplate  the  cessation  of  communications 
with  heaven  unmoved.  They  were  far  from  the  practi- 
cal materialism  which  leads  its  victims  to  be  perfectly 
satisfied  to  remain  in  a  condition  of  spiritual  paralysis 
— a  totally  different  thing  from  the  theoretical  material- 
ism of  Priestley  and  Tyndall.  They  knew  that  "  man 
shall  not  live  by  bread  alone,  but  by  every  word  that 
proceedeth  out  of  the  mouth  of  God";  and  therefore 
they  understood  that  a  famine  of  the  word  of  God  must 
result  in  as  real  a  starvation  as  a  famine  of  wheat. 
When  we  have  succeeded  in  recovering  this  Hebrew 
standpoint  we  shall  be  prepared  to  recognise  that 
there  are  worse  calamities  than  bad  harvests  and 
seasons  of  commercial  depression  ;  we  shall  be  brought 
to  acknowledge  that  it  is  possible  to  be  starved  in  the 
midst  of  plenty,  because  the  greatest  abundance  of  such 
food  as  we  have  lacks  the  elements  requisite  for  our 
complete  nourishment.  According  to  reports  of  sani- 
tary authorities,  children  in  Ireland  are  suffering  from 
the  substitution  of  the  less  expensive  and  sweeter  diet 
of  maize  for  the  more  wholesome  oatmeal  on  which  their 
parents  were  brought  up.  Must  it  not  be  confessed 
that  a  similar  substitution  of  cheap  and  savoury  soul 
pabulum — in  literature,  music,  amusements — for  the 
"  sincere  milk  of  the  word "  and  the  "  strong  meat " 
of  truth  is  the  reason  why  so  many  of  us  are  not 
growing  up  to  the  stature  of  Christ  ?  The  "  liberty 
of  prophesying  "  for  which  our  fathers  contended  and 
suffered  is  ours.  But  it  will  be  a  barren  heritage  if 
in  cherishing  the  liberty  we  lose  the  prophesying. 
There  is  no  gift  enjoyed  by  the  Church  for  which  she 
should  be  more  jealous  than  that  of  the  prophetic 
spirit. 

As  we  look  across  the  wide  field  of  history  we  must 


i6o  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

perceive  that  there  have  been  many  dreary  periods  in 
which  the  prophets  could  find  no  vision  fi-om  the  Lord. 
At  first  sight  it  would  even  seem  that  the  light  of 
heaven  only  shone  on  a  few  rare  luminous  spots, 
leaving  the  greater  part  of  the  world  and  the  longer 
periods  of  time  in  absolute  gloom.  But  this  pessimistic 
view  results  from  our  limited  capacity  to  perceive  the 
light  that  is  there.  We  look  for  the  lightning.  But 
inspiration  is  not  always  electric.  The  prophet's  vision 
is  not  necessarily  startling.  It  is  a  vulgar  delusion  to 
suppose  that  revelation  must  assume  a  sensational 
aspect.  It  was  predicted  of  the  Word  of  God  incarnate 
that  He  should  "not  strive,  or  cry,  or  lift  up  His 
voice  ";^  and  when  He  came  He  was  rejected  because 
He  would  not  satisfy  the  wonder-seekers  with  a  flaring- 
portent — a  "  sign  from  heaven."  Still  it  cannot  be 
denied  that  there  have  been  periods  of  barrenness. 
They  are  found  in  what  might  be  called  the  secular 
regions  of  the  operation  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  A 
brilliant  epoch  of  scientific  discovery,  artistic  invention, 
or  literary  production  is  followed  by  a  time  of  torpor, 
feeble  imitation,  or  meretricious  pretence.  The  Augustan 
and  Elizabethan  ages  cannot  be  conjured  back  at  will. 
Prophets  of  nature,  poets,  and  artists  can  none  of  them 
command  the  power  of  inspiration.  This  is  a  gift 
which  may  be  withheld,  and  which,  when  denied,  will 
elude  the  most  earnest  pursuit.  We  may  miss  the 
vision  of  prophecy  when  the  prophets  are  as  numerous 
as  ever,  and  unfortunately  as  vocal.  The  preacher 
possesses  learning  and  rhetoric.  We  only  miss  one 
thing  in  him — inspiration.  But,  alas  !  that  is  just  the 
one  thing  needful. 


ii.9,  I4-]  PROPHETS    WITHOUT  A    VISION  i6i 

Now  the  question  forces  itself  upon  our  attention, 
what  is  the  explanation  of  these  variations  in  the 
distribution  of  the  spirit  of  prophecy  ?  Why  is  the 
fountain  of  inspiration  an  intermittent  spring,  a 
Bethesda  ?  We  cannot  trace  its  failure  to  any  short- 
ness of  supply,  for  this  fountain  is  fed  from  the  infinite 
ocean  of  the  Divine  life.  Neither  can  we  attribute 
caprice  to  One  whose  wisdom  is  infinite,  and  whose 
will  is  constant.  It  may  be  right  to  say  that  God 
withholds  the  vision,  withholds  it  deliberately ;  but  it 
cannot  be  correct  to  assert  that  this  fact  is  the  final 
explanation  of  the  whole  matter.  God  must  be  believed 
to  have  a  reason,  a  good  and  sufficient  reason,  for 
whatever  He  does.  Can  we  guess  what  His  reason 
may  be  in  such  a  case  as  this  ?  It  may  be  conjectured 
that  it  is  necessary  for  the  field  to  lie  fallow  for  a  season 
in  order  that  it  may  bring  forth  a  better  crop  subse- 
quently. Incessant  cultivation  would  exhaust  the  soil. 
The  eye  would  be  blinded  if  it  had  no  rest  from  visions. 
We  may  be  overfed  ;  and  the  more  nutritious  our  diet 
is  the  greater  will  be  the  danger  of  surfeit.  One  of 
our  chief  needs  in  the  use  of  revelation  is  that  we 
should  thoroughly  digest  its  contents.  What  is  the 
use  of  receiving  fresh  visions  if  we  have  not  yet 
assimilated  the  truth  that  we  already  possess  ?  Some- 
times, too,  no  vision  can  be  found  for  the  simple  reason 
that  no  vision  is  needed.  We  waste  ourselves  in  the 
pursuit  of  unprofitable  questions  when  we  should  be 
setting  about  our  business.  Until  we  have  obeyed 
the  light  that  has  been  given  us  it  is  foolish  to  com- 
plain that  we  have  not  more  light.  Even  our  present 
light  will  wane  if  it  is  not  followed  up  in  practice. 

But  while  considerations  such  as  these  must  be 
attended  to  if  we  are  to  form  a  sound  judgment  on  the 

u 


i62  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

whole  question,  they  do  not  end  the  controversy,  and 
they  scarcely  apply  at  all  to  the  particular  illustration 
of  it  that  is  now  before  us.  There  is  no  danger  of 
surfeit  in  a  famine  ;  and  it  is  a  famine  of  the  word 
that  we  are  now  confronted  with.  Moreover,  the 
elegist  supplies  an  explanation  that  sets  all  conjectures 
at  rest. 

The  fault  was  in  the  prophets  themselves.  Although 
the  poet  does  not  connect  the  two  statements  together, 
but  inserts  other  matter  between  them,  we  cannot  fail 
to  see  that  his  next  words  about  the  prophets  bear 
very  closely  on  his  lament  over  the  denial  of  visions. 
He  tells  us  that  they  had  seen  visions  of  vanity  and 
foolishness.^  This  is  with  reference  to  an  earlier  period. 
Then  they  had  had  their  visions ;  but  these  had  been 
empty  and  worthless.  The  meaning  cannot  be  that 
the  prophets  had  been  subject  to  unavoidable  delusions, 
that  they  had  sought  truth,  but  had  been  rewarded 
with  deception.  The  following  words  show  that  the 
blame  was  attributed  entirely  to  their  own  conduct. 
Addressing  the  daughter  of  Zion  the  poet  says :  *'  Thy 
prophets  have  seen  visions /or  thee.'"  The  visions  were 
suited  to  the  people  to  whom  they  were  declared — 
manufactured,  shall  we  say  ? — with  the  express  purpose 
of  pleasing  them.  Such,  a  degradation  of  sacred 
functions  in  gross  unfaithfulness  deserved  punishment ; 
and  the  most  natural  and  reasonable  punishment  was 
the  withholding  for  the  future  of  true  visions  from 
men  who  in  the  past  had  forged  false  ones.  The  very 
possibility  of  this  conduct  proves  that  the  influence  of 
inspiration  had  not  the  hold  upon  these  Hebrew 
prophets  that  it  had  obtained  over  the  heathen  prophet 


ii.  9,  14.]  PROPHETS   WITHOUT  A    VISION  163 


Balaam,  when  he  exclaimed,  in  face  of  the  bribes  and 
threats  of  the  infuriated  king  of  Moab :  "  If  Balak 
would  give  me  his  house  full  of  silver  and  gold,  I 
cannot  go  beyond  the  word  of  the  Lord,  to  do  either 
good  or  bad  of  mine  own  mind  ;  what  the  Lord  speaketh, 
that  will  I  speak."  ^ 

It  must  ever  be  that  unfaithfulness  to  the  light  we 
have  already  received  will  bar  the  door  against  the 
advent  of  more  light.  There  is  nothing  so  blinding 
as  the  habit  of  lying.  People  who  do  not  speak  truth 
ultimately  prevent  themselves  from  perceiving  truth, 
the  false  tongue  leading  the  eye  to  see  falsely.  This 
is  the  curse  and  doom  of  all  insincerity.  It  is 
useless  to  enquire  for  the  views  of  insincere  persons  ; 
they  can  have  no  distinct  views,  no  certain  convictions, 
because  their  mental  vision  is  blurred  by  their  long- 
continued  habit  of  confounding  true  and  false.  Then 
if  for  once  in  their  lives  such  people  may  really  desire 
to  find  a  truth  in  order  to  assure  themselves  in 
some  great  emergency,  and  therefore  seek  a  vision  of 
the  Lord,  they  will  have  lost  the  very  faculty  of 
receiving  it. 

The  blindness  and  deadness  that  characterise  so 
much  of  the  history  of  thought  and  literature,  art  and 
religion,  are  to  be  attributed  to  the  same  disgraceful 
cause.  Greek  philosophy  decayed  in  the  insincerity 
of  professional  sophistry.  Gothic  art  degenerated  into 
the  florid  extravagance  of  the  Tudor  period  when  it 
had  lost  its  religious  motive,  and  had  ceased  to  be 
what  it  pretended.  Elizabethan  poetry  passed  through 
euphuism  into  the  uninspired  conceits  of  the  sixteenth 
century.      Dryden  restored  the  habit    of  true   speech, 

'  Numb.  xxiv.  13. 


i64  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

but  it  required  generations  of  arid  eighteenth  century 
sincerity  in  hterature  to  make  the  faculty  of  seeing 
visions  possible  to  the  age  of  Burns  and  Shelley  and 
Wordsworth. 

In  religion  this  fatal  effect  of  insincerity  is  terribly 
apparent.  The  formalist  can  never  become  a  prophet. 
Creeds  which  were  kindled  in  the  fires  of  passionate 
conviction  will  cease  to  be  luminous  when  the  faith 
that  inspired  them  has  perished ;  and  then  if  they 
are  still  repeated  as  dead  words  by  false  lips  the 
unreality  of  them  will  not  only  rob  them  of  all 
value,  it  will  blind  the  eyes  of  the  men  and  women 
who  are  guilty  of  this  falsehood  before  God,  so  that 
no  new  vision  of  truth  can  be  brought  within  their 
reach.  Here  is  one  of  the  snares  that  attach  themselves 
to  the  privilege  of  receiving  a  heritage  of  teaching  from 
our  ancestors.  We  can  only  avoid  it  by  means  of 
searching  inquests  over  the  dead  beliefs  which  a  foolish 
fondness  has  permitted  to  remain  unburied,  poisoning 
the  atmosphere  of  living  faith.  So  long  as  the  fact 
that  they  are  dead  is  not  honestly  admitted  it  will  be 
impossible  to  establish  sincerity  in  worship ;  and  the 
insincerity,  while  it  lasts,  will  be  an  impassable  barrier 
to  the  advent  of  truth. 

The  elegist  has  laid  his  finger  on  the  particular  form 
of  untruth  of  which  the  Jerusalem  prophets  had  been 
guilty.  They  had  not  discovered  her  iniquity  to  the 
daughter  of  Zion.^  Thus  they  had  hastened  her  ruin 
by  keeping  back  the  message  that  would  have  urged 
their  hearers  to  repentance.  Some  interpreters  have 
given  quite  a  new  t\irn  to  the  last  clause  of  the  fourteenth 
verse.      Literally  this  states  that   the   prophets   have 


11.  14. 


ii.9,  I4-]  PROPHETS   WITHOUT  A    VISION  165 

seen  "  drivings  away " ;  and  ccordingly  it  has  been 
taken  to  mean  that  they  pretended  to  have  had  visions 
about  the  captivity  when  this  was  an  accomplished 
fact,  although  they  had  been  silent  on  the  subject,  or 
had  even  denied  the  danger,  at  the  earlier  time  when 
alone  their  words  could  have  been  of  any  use ;  or, 
again,  the  words  have  been  thought  to  suggest  that 
these  prophets  were  now  at  the  later  period  predicting 
fresh  calamities,  and  were  blind  to  the  vision  of  hope 
which  a  true  prophet  like  Jeremiah  had  seen  and 
declared.  But  such  ideas  are  over-refined,  and  they 
give  a  twist  to  the  course  of  thought  that  is  foreign  to 
the  form  of  these  direct,  simple  elegies.  It  seems  better 
to  take  the  final  clause  of  the  verse  as  a  repetition 
of  what  went  before,  with  a  slight  variety  of  form. 
Thus  the  poet  declares  that  the  burdens,  or  prophecies, 
which  these  unfaithful  men  have  presented  to  the  people 
have  been  causes  of  banishment. 

The  crying  fault  of  the  prophets  is  their  reluctance 
to  preach  to  people  of  their  sins.  Their  mission 
distinctly  involves  the  duty  of  doing  so.  They  should 
not  shun  to  declare  the  whole  counsel  of  God.  It  is 
not  within  the  province  of  the  ambassador  to  make 
selections  from  among  the  despatches  with  which  he 
has  been  entrusted  in  order  to  suit  his  own  convenience. 
There  is  nothing  that  so  paralyses  the  work  of  the 
preacher  as  the  habit  of  choosing  favourite  topics  and 
Ignoring  less  attractive  subjects.  Just  in  proportion 
as  he  commits  this  sin  against  his  vocation  he  ceases 
to  be  the  prophet  of  God,  and  descends  to  the  level  of 
one  who  deals  in  obiter  dicta,  mere  personal  opinions  to 
be  taken  on  their  own  merits.  One  of  the  gravest 
possible  omissions  is  the  neglect  to  give  due  weight 
to  the  tragic  fact  of  sin.     All  the  great  prophets  have 


i66  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


been  conspicuous  for  their  fidelity  to  this  painful  and 
sometimes  dangerous  part  of  their  work.  If  we  would 
call  up  a  typical  picture  of  a  prophet  in  the  discharge 
of  his  task,  we  should  present  to  our  minds  Elijah 
confronting  Ahab,  or  John  the  Baptist  before  Herod,  or 
Savonarola  accusing  Lorenzo  de  Medici,  or  John  Knox 
preaching  at  the  court  of  Mary  Stuart.  He  is  Isaiah 
declaring  God's  abomination  of  sacrifices  and  incense 
when  these  are  offered  by  blood-stained  hands,  or 
Chrysostom  seizing  the  opportunity  that  followed  the 
mutilation  of  the  imperial  statues  at  Antioch  to  preach 
to  the  dissolute  city  on  the  need  of  repentance,  or 
Latimer  denouncing  the  sins  of  London  to  the  citizens 
assembled  at  Paul's  Cross. 

The  shallow  optimism  that  disregards  the  shadows 
of  life  is  trebly  faulty  when  it  appears  in  the  pulpit. 
It  falsifies  facts  in  failing  to  take  account  of  the  stern 
realities  of  the  evil  side  of  them  ;  it  misses  the  grand 
opportunity  of  rousing  the  consciences  of  men  and 
women  by  forcing  them  to  attend  to  unv/elcome  truths, 
and  thus  encourages  the  heedlessness  with  which 
people  rush  headlong  to  ruin  ;  and  at  the  same  time 
it  even  renders  the  declaration  of  the  gracious  truths 
of  the  gospel,  to  which  it  devotes  exclusive  attention, 
ineffectual,  because  redemption  is  meaningless  to  those 
who  do  not  recognise  the  present  slavery  and  the 
future  doom  from  v/hich  it  brings  deliverance.  On 
every  account  the  rose-water  preaching  that  ignores 
sin  and  flatters  its  hearers  with  pleasant  words  is  thin, 
insipid,  and  lifeless.  It  tries  to  win  popularity  by  echoing 
the  popular  wishes  ;  and  it  may  succeed  in  lulling  the 
storm  of  opposition  with  which  the  prophet  is  commonly 
assailed.  But  in  the  end  it  must  be  sterile.  When, 
"  through  fear  or  favour,"  the  messenger   of  heaven 


i;.  9,  14-1  PROPHETS    WITHOUT  A    VISION  167 

thus  prostitutes  his  mission  to  suit  the  ends  of  a  low, 
selfish,  worldly  expediency,  the  very  least  punishment 
with  which  his  offence  can  be  visited  is  for  him  to  be 
deprived  of  the  gifts  he  has  so  grossly  abused.  Here, 
then,  we  have  the  most  specific  explanation  of  the 
failure  of  heavenly  visions ;  it  comes  from  the  neglect 
of  earthly  sin.  This  is  what  breaks  the  magician's 
wand,  so  that  he  can  no  longer  summon  the  Ariel  of 
inspiration  to  his  aid. 


CHAPTER    X 

THE    CALL    TO    PRAYER 


IT  is  not  easy  to  analyse  the  complicated  construc- 
tion of  the  concluding  portion  of  the  second  elegy. 
If  the  text  is  not  corrupt  its  transitions  are  very  abrupt. 
The  difficulty  is  to  adjust  the  relations  of  three  sections. 
First  we  have  the  sentence,  "Their  heart  cried  unto 
the  Lord."  Next  comes  the  address  to  the  wall,  '*  O 
wall  of  the  daughter  of  Zion,"  etc.  Lastly,  there  is  the 
prayer  which  extends  from  verse  20  to  the  end  of  the 
poem. 

The  most  simple  grammatical  arrangement  is  to  take 
the  first  clause  in  connection  with  the  preceding  verse. 
The  last  substantive  was  the  word  "  adversaries." 
Therefore  in  the  rigour  of  grammar  the  pronoun  should 
represent  that  word.  Read  thus,  the  sentence  relates 
an  action  of  the  enemies  of  Israel  when  their  horn  has 
been  exalted.  The  word  rendered  "  cried "  is  one 
that  would  designate  a  loud  shout,  and  that  translated 
"  Lord "  here  is  not  the  sacred  name  Jehovah  but 
Adonai,  a  general  term  that  might  very  well  be  used 
in  narrating  the  behaviour  of  the  heathen  towards 
God.  Thus  the  phrase  would  seem  to  describe  the 
insolent  shout  of  triumph  which  the  adversaries  of  the 
Jews  fling  at  the  God  of  their  victims. 


ii.  iS-22.]  THE   CALL    TO  PRAYER  169 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  the 
general  title  "  Lord "  {Adonai)  is  also  employed  in 
the  very  next  verse  in  the  direct  call  to  prayer.  The 
heart,  too,  is  mentioned  again  there  as  it  is  here,  and 
that  to  express  the  inner  being  and  deepest  feelings  of 
the  afflicted  city.  It  seems  unlikely  that  the  elegist 
would  mention  a  heart-cry  of  the  enemies  and  describe 
this  as  addressed  to  "  The  Lord." 

Probably  then  we  should  apply  this  opening  clause 
to  the  Jews,  although  they  had  not  been  named  in  the 
near  context,  a  construction  favoured  by  the  abrupt 
transitions  in  which  the  elegist  indulges  elsewhere. 
It  is  the  heart  of  the  Jews  that  cried  unto  the  Lord. 
Now  the  question  arises.  How  shall  we  take  this  asser- 
tion in  view  of  the  words  that  follow  ?  The  common 
reading  supposes  that  it  introduces  the  immediately 
succeeding  sentences.  The  heart  of  the  Jews  calls  to 
the  wall  of  the  daughter  of  Zion,  and  bids  it  arise  and 
pray.  But  with  this  construction  we  should  look  for 
another  word  (such  as  "  saying ")  to  introduce  the 
appeal,  because  the  Hebrew  word  rendered  "  cried  " 
is  usually  employed  absolutel}^,  and  not  as  the  preface 
to  quoted  speech.  Besides,  the  ideas  would  be  strangely 
involved.  Some  people,  indefinitely  designated  "  they," 
exhort  the  wall  to  weep  and  pray !  How  can  this 
exhortation  to  a  wall  be  described  as  a  calling  to  the 
Lord  ?  The  complication  is  increased  when  the  prayer 
follows  sharply  on  the  anonymous  appeal  without  a 
single  connecting  or  explanatory  clause. 

A  simpler  interpretation  is  to  follow  Calvin  in 
rendering  the  first  clause  absolutel}'-,  but  still  applying 
it  to  the  Jews,  who,  though  they  are  not  named  here, 
are  supposed  to  be  always  in  mind.  We  may  not 
agree  with  the  stern  theologian  of  Geneva  in  asserting 


170  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

that  the  cry  thus  designated  is.  one  of  impatient  grief 
flowing  not  "  from  a  right  feeling  or  from  the  true  fear 
of  God,  but  from  the  strong  and  turbid  impulse  of 
nature."  The  elegist  furnishes  no  excuse  for  this 
somewhat  ungracious  judgment.  After  his  manner, 
already  familiar  to  us,  the  poet  interjects  a  thought — 
viz.,  that  the  distressed  Jews  cried  to  God.  This 
suggests  to  him  the  great  value  of  the  refuge  of 
prayer,  a  topic  on  which  he  forthwith  proceeds  to 
enlarge  first  by  making  an  appeal  to  others,  and  then  by 
himself  breaking  out  into  the  direct  language  of  petition. 
This  is  not  the  first  occasion  on  which  the  elegist 
has  shown  his  faith  in  the  efficacy  of  prayer.  But 
hitherto  he  has  only  uttered  brief  exclamations  in  the 
middle  of  his  descriptive  passages.  Now  he  gives  a 
solemn  call  to  prayer,  and  follows  this  with  a  deliberate, 
full  petition,  addressed  to  God.  We  must  feel  that  the 
elegy  is  lifted  to  a  higher  plane  by  the  new  turn  that 
the  thought  of  its  author  takes  at  this  place.  Grief  is 
natural ;  it  is  useless  to  pretend  to  be  impassive ;  and, 
although  our  Teutonic  habits  of  reserve  may  make  it 
difficult  for  us  to  sympathise  with  the  violent  outbursts 
that  an  Oriental  permits  himself  without  any  sense  of 
shame,  we  must  admit  that  a  reasonable  expression 
of  the  emotions  is  good  and  wholesome.  Tennyson 
recognises  this  in  the  well-known  lyric  where  he  says 
of  the  dead  warrior's  wife— 

"  She  must  weep  or  she  will  die." 

Nevertheless,  an  unchecked  rush  of  feeling,  not 
followed  by  any  action,  cannot  but  evince  weakness  ; 
it  has  no  lifting  power.  Although,  if  the  emotion  is 
distressful,  such  an  expression  may  give  relief  to  its 
subject,  it  is  certainly  very  depressing  to  the  spectator. 


ii.  18-22.]  THE  CALL    TO  PRAYER  171 

For  this  reason  the  Book  of  Lamentations  strikes  us  as 
the  most  depressing  part  of  the  Bible — would  it  not  be 
just  to  say,  as  the  only  part  that  can  be  so  described  ? 
But  it  would  not  be  fair  to  this  Book  to  suppose  that  it 
did  nothing  beyond  realising  the  significance  of  its 
title.  It  contains  more  than  a  melancholy  series  of 
laments.  In  the  passage  before  us  the  poet  raises  his 
voice  to  a  higher  strain. 

This  new  and  more  elevated  turn  in  the  elegy  is 
itself  suggestive.  The  transition  from  lamentation  to 
prayer  is  always  good  for  the  sufferer.  The  first 
action  may  relieve  his  pent-up  emotions ;  it  cannot 
destroy  the  source  from  which  they  flow.  But  prayer 
is  more  practical,  for  it  aims  at  deliverance.  That, 
however,  is  its  least  merit.  In  the  very  act  of  seeking 
help  from  God  the  soul  is  brought  into  closer  relations 
with  Him,  and  this  condition  of  communion  is  a  better 
thing  than  any  results  that  can  possibly  follow  in  the 
form  of  answers  to  the  prayer,  great  and  helpful  as 
these  may  be.  The  trouble  that  drives  us  to  prayer 
is  a  blessing  because  the  state  of  a  praying  soul  is  a 
blessed  state. 

Like  the  muezzin  on  his  minaret,  the  elegist  calls  to 
prayer.  But  his  exhortation  is  addressed  to  a  strange 
object— to  the  wall  of  the  daughter  of  Zion.  This 
wall  is  to  let  its  tears  flow  like  a  river.  It  is  so  far 
personified  that  mention  is  made  of  the  apple  of  its 
eye;  it  is  called  upon  to  arise,  to  pour  out  its  heart, 
to  lift  up  its  hands.  The  Hcense  of  Eastern  poetry 
permits  the  unflinching  apphcation  of  a  metaphor  to 
an  extent  that  would  be  considered  extravagant  and 
even  absurd  in  our  Own  literature.  It  is  only  in  a 
travesty  of  melodrama  that  Shakespeare  permits  the 
Thisbe  of  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  to  address  a 


172  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


wall.  Browning  has  an  exquisitely  beautiful  little 
poem  apostrophising  an  old  wall ;  but  this  is  not 
done  so  as  to  leave  out  of  account  the  actual  form  and 
nature  of  his  subject.  Walls  can  not  only  be  beautiful 
and  even  sublime,  as  Mr.  Ruskin  has  shewn  in  his 
Stones  of  Venice  ;  they  may  also  wreathe  their  severe 
outlines  in  a  multitude  of  thrilling  associations.  This 
is  especially  so  when,  as  in  the  present  instance,  it  is 
the  wall  of  a  city  that  we  are  contemplating.  Not  a 
new  piece  of  builder's  work,  neat  and  clean  and  bald, 
bare  of  all  associations,  as  meaningless  as  in  too  many 
cases  it  is  ugly,  but  an  old  wall,  worn  by  the  passing 
to  and  fro  of  generations  that  have  turned  to  dust  long 
years  ago,  bearing  the  bruises  of  war  on  its  battered 
face,  crumbling  to  powder,  or  perhaps  half  buried  in 
weeds — such  a  wall  is  eloquent  in  its  wealth  of  associa- 
tions, and  there  is  pathos  in  the  thought  of  its  mere 
age  when  this  is  considered  in  relation  to  the  many 
men  and  women  and  children  who  have  rested  beneath 
its  shadow  at  noon,  or  sheltered  themselves  behind 
its  solid  masonry  amid  the  terrors  of  war.  The  walls 
that  encircle  the  ancient  English  city  of  Chester  and 
keep  alive  memories  of  mediaeval  life,  the  bits  of  the 
old  London  wall  that  are  left  standing  among  the 
warehouses  and  offices  of  the  busy  mart  of  modern 
commerce,  even  the  remote  wall  of  China  for  quite 
different  reasons,  and  many  another  famous  wall, 
suggest  to  us  multitudinous  reflections.  But  the  walls 
of  Jerusalem  surpass  them  all  in  the  pathos  of  the 
memories  that  cling  to  their  old  grey  stones.  It  does 
not  require  a  great  stretch  of  imagination  to  picture 
these  walls  as  once  glowing  and  throbbing  with  an 
intense  life,  and  now  dreaming  over  the  unfathomable 
depths  of  age-long  memories. 


li.  i8-22.]  THE  CALL    TO  PRAYER  173 

In  personifying  the  wall  of  Zion,  however,  the  Hebrew 
poet  does  not  indulge  in  reflections  such  as  these,  which 
are  more  in  harmony  with  the  mild  melancholy  of 
Gray's  Elegy  than  with  the  sadder  mood  of  the  mourn- 
ing patriot.  He  names  the  wall  to  give  unity  and 
concreteness  to  his  appeal,  and  to  clothe  it  in  an 
atmosphere  of  poetic  fancy.  But  his  sober  thought 
in  the  background  is  directed  towards  the  citizens 
whom  that  historic  wall  once  enclosed.  Herein  is  his 
j  ustification  for  carrying  his  personification  so  far.  This 
is  more  than  a  wild  apostrophe,  the  outburst  of  an 
excited  poet's  fancy.  The  imaginative  conceit  wings 
the  arrow  of  a  serious  purpose. 

Let  us  look  at  the  appeal  in  detail.  First  the  elegist 
encourages  a  free  outflow  of  grief,  that  tears  should  run 
like  a  river,  literally,  like  a  torrent — the  allusion  being 
to  one  of  those  steep  watercourses  which,  though  dry 
in  summer,  become  rushing  floods  in  the  rainy  season. 
This  introduction  shews  that  the  call  to  prayer  is  not 
intended  in  any  sense  as  a  rebuke  for  the  natural 
expression  of  grief,  nor  as  a  denial  of  its  existence. 
The  sufferers  cannot  say  that  the  poet  does  not  sympa- 
thise with  them.  It  might  seem  needless  to  give  this 
assurance.  But  anybody  who  has  attempted  to  offer 
exhortation  to  a  person  in  trouble  must  have  discovered 
liow  delicate  his  task  is.  Let  him  approach  the  subject 
as  carefully  as  he  may,  it  is  almost  certain  that  he  will 
chafe  the  quivering  nerves  he  desires  to  soothe,  so 
sensitive  is  the  soul  in  pain  to  any  interference  from 
without.  Under  these  circumstances,  the  one  method 
by  which  it  is  at  all  possible  to  smooth  the  way  of 
approach  is  an  expression  of  genuine  sympathy. 

There  may  be  a  deeper  reason  for  this  encourage- 
ment of  the  expression  of  grief  as  a  preliminary  to  a 


174  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH  > 

call  to  prayer.  The  helplessness  which  it  so  eloquently 
proclaims  is  just  the  condition  in  which  the  soul  is 
most  ready  to  cast  itself  on  the  mercy  of  God.  Calm 
fortitude  must  always  be  better  than  an  undisciplined 
abandonment  to  grief.  But  before  this  has  been  at- 
tained there  may  come  an  apathy  of  despair,  under  the 
influence  of  which  the  feelings  are  simply  benumbed. 
That  apathy  is  the  very  opposite  to  drying  up  the 
fountain  of  grief  as  it  may  be  dried  in  the  sunshine 
of  love ;  it  is  freezing  it.  The  first  step  towards 
deliverance  will  be  to  melt  the  glacier.  The  soul  must 
feel  before  it  can  pray.  Therefore  the  tears  are  en- 
couraged to  run  like  torrents,  and  the  sufferer  to  give 
himself  no  respite,  nor  let  the  apple  of  his  eye  cease 
from  weeping. 

Next  the  poet  exhorts  the  object  of  his  sympathy — • 
this  strange  personification  of  the  "  wall  of  the  daughter 
of  Zion,"  under  the  image  of  which  he  is  thinking  of 
the  Jews — to  arise.  The  weeping  is  but  a  preliminary 
to  more  promising  acts.  The  sufferer  is  not  to  spend 
the  long  night  in  an  unbroken  flow  of  grief,  like  the 
psalmist  "watering  his  couch  with  his  tears." ^  The 
very  opposite  attitude  is  now  suggested.  Grief  must  not 
be  treated  as  a  normal  condition,  to  be  acquiesced  in 
or  even  encouraged.  The  victim  is  tempted  to  cherish 
his  sorrow  as  a  sacred  charge,  to  feel  hurt  if  any 
mitigation  of  it  is  suggested,  or  ashamed  of  confessing 
that  relief  has  been  received.  When  he  has  reached 
this  condition  it  is  obvious  that  the  substance  of  grief 
has  passed ;  the  ghost  of  it  that  remains  is  fast  be- 
coming a  harmless  sentiment.  If,  however,  the  trouble 
should  be  still  maintaining  the  tightness  of  its  grip  on 

'  Psalm  vi.  6. 


22.]  THE   CALL    TO  PRAYER  175 


the  heart,  there  is  positive  danger  in  permitting  it  to 
be  indulged  without  intermission.  The  sufferer  must 
be  roused  if  he  is  to  be  saved  from  the  disease  of 
melancholia. 

He  must  be  roused  also  if  he  would  pray.  True 
prayer  is  a  strenuous  effort  of  the  soul,  requiring  the 
most  wakeful  attention  and  taxing  the  utmost  energy 
of  will.  The  Jew  stood  up  to  pray  with  hands  out- 
stretched to  heaven.  The  relaxed  and  feeble  devotions 
of  a  somnolent  worshipper  must  fall  flat  and  fruitless. 
There  is  no  value  in  the  length  of  a  prayer,  but  there 
is  much  in  its  depth.  It  is  the  weight  of  its  earnest- 
ness, not  the  comprehensiveness  of  its  topics,  that  gives 
it  efficacy.  Therefore  we  must  gird  up  our  loins  to 
pray  just  as  we  would  to  work,  or  run,  or  fight. 

Now  the  awakened  soul  is  urged  to  cry  out  in  the 
night,  and  in  the  beginning  of  the  night  watches — that 
is  to  say,  not  only  at  the  commencement  of  the  night, 
for  this  would  require  no  rousing,  but  at  the  beginning 
of  each  of  the  three  watches  into  which  the  Hebrews 
divided  the  hours  of  darkness — at  sunset,  at  ten  o'clock, 
and  at  two  in  the  morning.  The  sufferer  is  to  keep 
watch  with  prayer — observing  his  vespers,  his  nocturns, 
and  his  matins,  not  of  course  to  fulfil  forms,  but  be- 
cause, since  his  grief  is  continuous,  his  prayer  also  must 
not  cease.  This  is  all  assigned  to  the  night,  perhaps 
because  that  is  a  quiet,  solemn  season  for  undisturbed 
reflection,  when  therefore  the  grief  that  requires  the 
prayer  is  most  acutely  felt ;  or  perhaps  because  the 
time  of  sorrow  is  naturally  pictured  as  a  night,  as  a 
season  of  darkness. 

Proceeding  with  oiir  consideration  of  the  details  of 
this  call  to  prayer,  we  come  upon  the  exhortation  to 
pour  out  the  heart   like  water  before  the  face  of  the 


176  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

Lord.  The  image  here  used  is  not  without  parallel  in 
scripture.     Thus  a  psalmist  exclaims — 

"  I  am  poured  out  like  water, 
And  all  my  bones  are  out  of  joint : 
My  heart  is  like  wax; 
It  is  melted  in  the  midst  of  my  bowels."  ' 

But  the  ideas  are  not  just  the  same  in  the  two  cases. 
While  the  psalmist  thinks  of  himself  as  crushed  and 
shattered,  as  though  his  very  being  were  dissolved,  the 
thought  of  the  elegist  has  more  action  about  it,  with  a 
deliberate  intention  and  object  in  view.  His  image 
suggests  complete  openness  before  God.  Nothing  is  to 
be  withheld.  It  is  not  so  much  that  the  secrets  of  the 
soul  are  to  be.  disclosed.  The  end  aimed  at  is  not 
confession,  but  confidence.  Therefore  what  the  writer 
would  urge  is  that  the  sufferer  should  tell  the  whole  tale 
of  his  grief  to  God,  quite  freely,  without  any  reserve, 
trusting  absolutely  to  the  Divine  sympathy. 

This  confidence  is  a  primary  requisite  in  prayer. 
Until  we  can  trust  our  Father  it  is  useless  to  petition 
for  His  aid;  we  could  not  avail  ourselves  of  it  if  it 
were  offered  us.  Indeed,  the  soul  must  come  into 
relations  of  sympathy  with  God  before  any  real  prayer 
is  at  all  possible. 

We  may  go  further.  The  attitude  of  soul  that  is 
.vere  recommended  is  in  itself  the  very  essence  of 
prayer.  The  devotions  that  consist  in  a  series  of 
definite  petitions  are  of  secondary  worth,  and  super- 
ficial in  comparison  with  this  outpouring  of  the  heart 
before  God.  To  enter  into  relations  of  sympathy  and 
confidence  with  God  is  to  pray  in  the  truest,  deepest 
way  possible,  or  even  conceivable.     Prayer  in  the  heart 

Psalm  xxii.  14. 


i.  18-22]  THE  CALL    TO  PRAYER  177 

of  it  is  not  petition ;  that  is  the  beggar's  resort.  It 
is  communion — the  child's  privilege.  We  must  often 
be  as  beggars,  empty  of  everything  before  God  ;  yet 
we  may  also  enjoy  the  happier  relationship  of  sonship 
with  our  Father.  Even  in  the  extremity  of  need 
perhaps  the  best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  spread  out  the 
whole  case  before  God.  It  will  certainly  relieve  our 
own  minds  to  do  so,  and  everything  will  appear  changed 
when  viewed  in  the  light  of  the  Divine  presence. 
Perhaps  we  shall  then  cease  to  think  ourselves  ag- 
grieved and  wronged  ;  for  what  are  our  deserts  before 
the  holiness  of  God  ?  Passion  is  allayed  in  the  stillness 
of  the  sanctuary,  and  the  indignant  protest  dies  upon 
our  lips  as  we  proceed  to  lay  our  case  before  the  eyes 
of  the  All-Seeing.  We  cannot  be  impatient  any  longer ; 
He  is  so  patient  with  us,  so  fair,  so  kind,  so  good. 
Thus  when  we  cast  our  burden  upon  the  Lord  we  may 
be  surprised  with  the  discovery  that  it  is  not  so  heavy 
as  we  supposed.  There  are  times  when  it  is  not 
possible  for  us  to  go  any  further.  We  do  not  know 
what  relief  to  ask  for,  or  even  whether  we  should 
request  to  be  in  any  way  delivered  from  a  load  which 
it  may  be  our  duty  to  bear,  or  the  endurance  of  which 
may  be  a  most  wholesome  discipline  for  us.  These  pos- 
sibilities must  always  put  a  restraint  upon  the  utterance 
of  positive  petitions.  But  they  do  not  apply  to  the 
prayer  that  is  a  simple  act  of  confidence  in  God.  The 
secret  of  failure  in  prayer  is  not  that  we  do  not 
ask  enough  ;  it  is  that  we  do  not  pour  out  our  hearts 
before  God,  the  restraint  of  confidence  rising  from  fear  or 
doubt  simply  paralysing  the  energies  of  prayer.  Jesus 
teaches  us  to  pray  not  only  because  He  gives  us  a 
model  prayer,  but  much  more  because  He  is  in  Him- 
self so  true  and  full  and  winsome  a  revelation  of  God, 

12 


178  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

that  as  we  come  to  know  and  follow  Him  our  lost 
confidence  in  God  is  restored.  Then  the  heart  that 
knows  its  own  bitterness,  and  that  shrinks  from  per- 
mitting the  stranger  even  to  meddle  with  its  joy — 
how  much  more  then  with  its  sorrow  ? — can  pour  itself 
out  quite  freely  before  God,  for  the  simple  reason  that 
He  is  no  longer  a  stranger,  but  the  one  perfectly 
intimate  and  absolutely  trusted  Friend. 

It  is  to  be  noted  that  the  elegist  points  to  a  definite 
occasion  for  the  outpouring  of  the  heart  before  God. 
He  singles  out  specifically  the  sufferings  of  the  starving 
children — a  terrible  subject  that  appears  more  than 
once  in  this  elegy,  shewing  how  the  horror  of  it  has 
fastened  on  the  imagination  of  the  poet.  This  was 
the  most  heart-rending  and  mysterious  ingredient  in 
the  bitter  cup  of  the  woes  of  Jerusalem,  If  we  may 
bring  any  trouble  to  God  we  may  bring  the  worst 
trouble.  So  this  becomes  the  main  topic  of  the  prayer 
that  follows.  Here  the  cases  of  the  principal  victims 
are  cited.  Priest  and  prophet,  notwithstanding  the 
dignity  of  office,  young  man  and  maiden,  old  man 
and  little  child — all  alike  have  fallen  victims.  The 
ghastly  incident  of  a  siege,  where  hunger  has  reduced 
human  beings  to  the  level  of  savage  beasts,  women 
devouring  their  own  children,  is  here  cited,  and  its 
cause,  as  v/ell  as  that  of  all  the  other  scenes  of  the 
great  tragedy,  boldly  ascribed  to  God.  It  is  God  who 
has  summoned  His  Terrors  as  at  other  times  He  had 
summoned  His  people  to  the  festivals  of  the  sacred 
city.  But  if  God  mustered  the  whole  army  of  calamities 
it  seems  right  to  lay  the  story  of  the  havoc  they  have 
wrought  before  His  face ;  and  the  prayer  reads  almost 
like  an  accusation,  or  at  least  an  expostulation,  a 
remonstrance.     It  is  not  such,  however ;  for  we  have 


ii.  18-22.]  THE   CALL    TO  PRAYER  179 

seen  that  elsewhere  the  elegist  makes  full  confession  of 
the  guilt  of  Jerusalem  and  admits  that  the  doom  of 
the  wretched  city  was  quite  merited.  Still  if  the  dire 
chastisem.ent  is  from  the  hand  of  God  it  is  God  alone 
who  can  bring  deliverance.  That  is  the  final  point 
to  be  reached. 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE  MAN   THAT  HATH  SEEN  AFFLICTION 


WHETHER  we  regard  it  from  a  literary,  a  specu- 
lative, or  a  religious  point  of  view,  the  third  and 
central  elegy  cannot  fail  to  strike  us  as  by  far  the  best 
of  the  five.  The  workmanship  of  this  poem  is  most 
elaborate  in  conception  and  most  finished  in  execution, 
the  thought  is  most  fresh  and  striking,  and  the  spiritual 
tone  most  elevated,  and,  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word, 
evangelical.  Like  Tennyson,  who  is  most  poetic  when 
he  is  most  artistic,  as  in  his  lyrics,  and  like  all  the 
great  sonneteers,  the  author  of  this  exquisite  Hebrew 
melody  has  not  found  his  ideas  to  be  cramped  by  the 
rigorous  rules  of  composition.  It  would  seem  that  to 
a  master  the  elaborate  regulations  that  fetter  an  inferior 
mind  are  no  hindrances,  but  rather  instruments  fitted 
to  his  hand,  and  all  the  more  ser\nceable  for  their 
exactness.  Possibly  the  artistic  refinement  of  form 
stimulates  thought  and  rouses  the  poet  to  exert  his 
best  powers  ;  or  perhaps — and  this  is  more  probable — 
he  selects  the  richer  robe  for  the  purpose  of  clothing 
his  choicer  conceptions.  Here  we  have  the  acrostics 
worked  up  into  triplets,  so  that  they  now  appear  at 
the  beginning  of  every  line,  each  letter  occurring  three 
times  successively  as  an  initial,  and  the  whole  poem 
1 80 


iii.  I-2I.]    THE  MAN  THAT  HATH  SEEN  AFFLICTION     i8i 

falling  into  sixty-six  verses  or  twenty-two  triplets. 
Yet  none  of  the  other  four  poems  have  any  approach 
to  the  wealth  of  thought  or  the  uplifting  inspiration 
that  we  meet  with  in  this  highly  finished  product  of 
literary  art. 

This  elegy  differs  from  its  sister  poems  in  another 
respect.  It  is  composed,  for  the  most  part,  in  the  first 
person  singular,  the  writer  either  speaking  of  his  owai 
experience  or  dramatically  personating  another  sufferer. 
Who  is  this  "  man  that  hath  seen  affliction  ? "  On 
the  understanding  that  Jeremiah  is  the  author  of  the 
whole  book,  it  is  commonl}^  assumed  that  the  prophet 
is  here  revealing  his  own  feelings  under  the  multitude 
of  troubles  with  which  he  has  been  overwhelmed.  But 
if,  as  we  have  seen,  this  hypothesis  is,  to  say  the  least, 
extremely  dubious,  of  course  the  assumption  that  has 
been  based  upon  it  loses  its  warranty.  No  doubt 
there  is  much  in  the  touching  picture  of  the  afflicted 
person  that  agrees  with  what  we  know  of  the  experience 
of  the  great  prophet.  And  yet,  when  we  look  into  it, 
we  do  not  find  anything  of  so  specific  a  character  as 
to  settle  us  in  the  conclusion  that  the  words  could 
have  been  spoken  by  no  one  else.  There  is  just  the 
possibility  that  the  poet  is  not  describing  himself  at 
all ;  he  may  be  representing  somebody  well  known  to 
his  contemporaries — perhaps  even  Jeremiah,  or  just 
a  typical  character,  in  the  manner  of  Browning-'s 
Dramatis  Persona;. 

While  some  mystery  hangs  over  the  personality  of 
this  man  of  sorrows  the  power  and  pathos  of  the  poem 
are  certainly  heightened  by  the  concentration  of  our 
attention  upon  one  individual.  Few  persons  are  moved 
by  general  statements.  Necessarily  the  comprehensive 
is  all  outline.     It  is  by  the  supply  of  the  particular 


1 82  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

that  we  fill  up  the  details ;  and  it  is  only  when  these 
details  are  present  that  we  have  a  full-bodied  picture. 
If  an  incident  is  typical  it  is  illustrative  of  its  kind. 
To  know  one  such  fact  is  to  know  all.  Thus  the 
science  lecturer  produces  his  specimen,  and  is  satisfied 
to  teach  from  it  without  adding  a  number  of  duplicates. 
The  study  of  abstract  reports  is  most  important  to 
those  who  are  already  interested  in  the  subjects  of 
these  dreary  documents ;  but  it  is  useless  as  a  means 
of  exciting  interest.  Philanthropy  must  visit  the  office 
of  the  statistician  if  it  would  act  with  enlightened  judg- 
ment, and  not  permit  itself  to  become  the  victim  of 
blind  enthusiasm  ;  but  it  was  not  born  there,  and  the 
S3aiipathy  which  is  its  parent  can  only  be  found  among 
individual  instances  of  distress. 

In  the  present  case  the  speaker  who  recounts  his 
own  misfortunes  is  more  than  a  casual  witness,  more 
than  a  mere  specimen  picked  out  at  random  from  the 
heap  of  misery  accumulated  in  this  age  of  national  ruin. 
He  is  not  simply  a  man  who  has  seen  affliction,  one 
among  many  similar  sufferers ;  he  is  the  man,  the 
v/ell-known  victim,  one  pre-eminent  in  distress  even 
in  the  midst  of  a  nation  full  of  miser}^  Yet  he  is  not 
isolated  on  a  solitary  peak  of  agony.  As  the  supreme 
sufferer,  he  is  also  the  representative  sufferer.  He  is 
not  selfishly  absorbed  in  the  morbid  occupation  of 
brooding  over  his  private  grievances.  He  has  gathered 
into  himself  the  vast  and  terrible  woes  of  his  people. 
Thus  he  foreshadows  our  Lord  in  His  passion.  We 
cannot  but  be  struck  with  the  aptness  of  much  in  this 
third  elegy  when  it  is  read  in  the  light  of  the  last 
scenes  of  the  gospel  history.  It  would  be  a  mistake 
to  say  that  these  outpourings  from  the  heart  of  the 
Hebrew  patriot  were  intended  to  convey  a  prophetic 


iii.  I-2I.]    THE  MAN  THAT  HATH  SEEN  AFFLICTION     183 

meaning  with  reference  to  another  Sufferer  in  a  far- 
distant  future.  Nevertheless  the  appHcation  of  the 
poem  to  the  Man  of  Sorrows  is  more  than  a  case  of 
literary  illustration ;  for  the  idea  of  representative 
suffering  which  here  emerges,  and  which  becomes 
more  definite  in  the  picture  of  the  servant  of  Jehovah 
in  Isa.  liii.,  only  finds  its  full  realisation  and  perfection 
in  Jesus  Christ.  It  is  repeated,  however,  with  more  or 
less  distinctness  wherever  the  Christ  spirit  is  revealed. 
Thus  in  a  noble  interpretation  of  St.  Paul,  the  Apostle 
is  represented  as  experiencing — 

"Desperate  tides  of  the  whole  world's  anguish 
Forced  through  the  channel  of  a  single  heart."  ' 

The  portrait  of  himself  drawn  by  the  author  of  this 
elegy  is  the  more  graphic  by  reason  of  the  fact  that  the 
present  is  linked  to  the  past.  The  striking  commence- 
ment, "  I  am  the  man,"  etc.,  sets  the  speaker  in 
imagination  before  our  eyes.  The  addition  "  who  has 
seen  "  (or  rather,  experienced)  "  afQiction  "  connects  him 
with  his  present  sufferings.  The  unfathomable  mystery 
of  personal  identity  here  confronts  us.  This  is  more 
than  memory,  more  than  the  fingering  scar  of  a  pre- 
vious experience  ;  it  is,  in  a  sense,  the  continuance  of 
that  experience,  its  ghostly  presence  still  haunting  the 
soul  that  once  knew  it  in  the  glow  of  life.  Thus  we 
are  what  we  have  thought  and  felt  and  done,  and  our 
present  is  the  perpetuation  of  our  past.  The  man  who 
has  seen  afQiction  does  not  only  keep  the  history  of  his 
distresses  in  the  quiet  chamber  of  memory.  His  own 
personality  has  slowly  acquired  a  depth,  a  fulness,  a 
ripeness  that  remove  him  far  from  the  raw  and  super- 
ficial character  he  once  was.     We   are  silenced    into 

'  St.  Paul,  by  Frederick  Myers. 


i84  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

awe  before  Job,  Jeremiah,  and  Dante,  because  these 
men  grew  great  by  suffering.  Is  it  not  told  even  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  that  He  was  made  perfect  by 
the  things  that  He  suffered  ?  ^  Unhappily  it  cannot 
be  said  that  every  hero  of  tragedy  climbs  to  perfection 
on  the  rugged  steps  of  his  terrible  life-drama ;  some 
men  are  shattered  by  discipline  which  proves  to  be  too 
severe  for  their  strength.  Christ  rose  to  His  highest 
glory  by  means  of  the  cruelty  of  His  enemies  and  the 
treason  of  one  of  His  trusted  disciples ;  but  cruel 
wrongs  drove  Lear  to  madness,  and  a  confidant's 
treachery  made  a  murderer  of  Othello.  Still  all  who 
pass  through  the  ordeal  come  out  other  than  they 
enter,  and  the  change  is  always  a  growth  in  some 
direction,  even  though  in  many  cases  we  must  admit 
with  sorrow  that  this  is  a  downward  direction. 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  here  in  his  self-portraiture 
— just  as  elsewhere  when  describing  the  calamities 
that  have  befallen  his  people — the  elegist  attributes 
the  whole  series  of  disastrous  events  to  God.  This 
characteristic  of  the  Book  of  Lamentations  throughout 
is  nowhere  more  apparent  than  in  the  third  chapter. 
So  close  is  the  thought  of  God  to  the  mind  of  the 
writer,  he  does  not  even  think  it  necessary  to  mention 
the  Divine  name.  He  introduces  his  pronouns  without 
any  explanation  of  their  objects,  saying  **///s  wrath" 
and  "  He  hath  led  me,"  and  so  on  through  the  succeed- 
ing verses.  This  quiet  assumption  of  a  recognised 
reference  of  all  that  happens  to  one  source,  a  source 
that  is  taken  to  be  so  well  known  that  there  is  no 
occasion  to  name  it,  speaks  volumes  for  the  deep-seated 
faith  of  the  writer.     He  is  at  the  antipodes  of  the  too 

'  Heb.  V.  S,  9. 


iii.  I -2 1.]    THE  MAN  THAT  HATH  SEEN  AFFLICTION     185 

common  position  of  those  people  who  habitually  forget 
to  mention  the  name  of  God  because  He  is  never  in 
their  thoughts.  God  is  always  in  the  thoughts  of  the 
elegist,  and  that  is  why  He  is  not  named.  Like  Brother 
Lawrence,  this  man  has  learnt  to  "  practise  the  presence 
of  God." 

In  ampHfying  the  account  of  his  sufferings,  after 
giving  a  general  description  of  himself  as  the  man  who 
has  experienced  affliction,  and  adding  a  line  in  which 
this  experience  is  connected  with  its  cause — the  rod 
of  the  wrath  of  Him  who  is  unnamed,  though  ever  in 
mind — the  stricken  patriot  proceeds  to  illustrate  and 
enforce  his  appeal  to  sympathy  by  means  of  a  series 
of  vivid  metaphors.  This  is  the  most  crisp  and  pointed 
writing  in  the  book.  It  humes  us  on  with  a  breathless 
rush  of  imagery,  scene  after  scene  flashing  out  in  be- 
wildering speed  like  the  whirl  of  objects  we  look  at 
from  the  windows  of  an  express  train. 

Let  us  first  glance  at  the  successive  pictures  in  this 
rapidly  moving  panorama  of  similes,  and  then  at  the 
general  import  and  drift  of  the  v/hole. 

The  afflicted  man  was  under  the  Divine  guidance ; 
he  was  not  the  victim  of  blind  self-will ;  it  was  not 
when  straying  from  the  path  of  right  that  he  fell  into 
this  pit  of  miser}^  The  strange  thing  is  that  God  led 
him  straight  into  it — led  him  into  darkness,  not  into 
light  as  might  have  been  expected  with  such  a  Guide.^ 
The  first  image,  then,  is  that  of  a  traveller  misled. 
The  perception  of  the  terrible  truth  that  is  here  sug- 
gested prompts  the  writer  at  once  to  draw  an  inference 
as  to  the  relation  in  which  God  stands  to  him,  and  the 
nature  and  character  of  the  Divine  treatment  of  him 

'  iii.  2. 


i86  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

throughout.  God,  whom  he  has  trusted  impHcitly, 
whom  he  has  followed  in  the  simplicity  of  ignorance, 
God  proves  to  be  his  Opponent  I  He  feels  like  one 
duped  in  the  past,  and  at  length  undeceived  as  he 
makes  the  amazing  discovery  that  his  trusted  Guide 
has  been  turning  His  hand  against  him  repeatedly  all 
the  day  of  his  woful  wanderings.-^  For  the  moment 
he  drops  his  metaphors,  and  reflects  on  the  dreadful 
consequences  of  this  fatal  antagonism.  His  flesh  and 
skin,  his  very  body  is  wasted  away ;  he  is  so  crushed 
and  shattered,  it  is  as  though  God  had  broken  his 
bones.^  Now  he  can  see  that  God  has  not  only  acted 
as  an  enemy  in  guiding  him  into  the  darkness ;  God's 
dealings  have  shewn  more  overt  antagonism.  The 
helpless  sufferer  is  like  a  besieged  city,  and  God,  who 
is  conducting  the  assault,  has  thrown  up  a  wall  round 
him.  With  that  daring  mixture  of  metaphors,  or,  to 
be  more  precise,  with  that  freedom  of  sudden  transition 
from  the  symbol  to  the  subject  symbolised  which  we 
often  meet  with  in  this  Book,  the  poet  calls  the  rampart 
with  which  he  has  been  girdled  "gall  and  travail,"^ 
for  he  has  felt  himself  beset  with  bitter  grief  and  weary 
toil.* 

Then  the  scene  changes.  The  victim  of  Divine  wrath 
is  a  captive  languishing  in  a  dungeon,  which  is  as  dark 
as  the  abodes  of  the  dead,  as  the  dwellings  of  those 
who  have  been  long  dead.^  The  horror  of  this  metaphor 
is  intensified  by  the  idea  of  the  antiquity  of  Hades. 
How  dismal  is  the  thought  of  being  plunged  into 
a  darkness  that  is  already  aged — a  stagnant  darkness. 


'  111.  3.  '  111.  4. 

^  The  Authorised  Version  has  "  travel,"  a  mere  variation  in  spellins 
The  word  means  painful  labour,  toil. 
■*  iii.  4.  iii.  6 


iii.  I -2 1.]    THE  MAN  THAT  HATH  SEEN  AFFLICTION     187 

the  atmosphere  of  those  who  long  since  lost  the 
last  rays  of  the  light  of  life  1  There  the  prisoner  is 
bound  by  a  heavy  chain,^  He  cries  for  help ;  but  he 
is  shut  down  so  low  that  his  prayer  cannot  reach  his 
Captor.^ 

Again  we  see  him  still  hampered,  though  in  altered 
circumstances.  He  appears  as  a  traveller  whose  way 
is  blocked,  and  that  not  by  some  accidental  fall  of  rock, 
but  of  set  purpose,  for  he  finds  the  obstruction  to  be 
of  carefully  prepared  masonry,  "  hewn  stones."  ^  There- 
fore he  has  to  turn  aside,  so  that  his  paths  become 
crooked.  Yet  more  terrible  does  the  Divine  enmity 
grow.  When  the  pilgrim  is  thus  forced  to  leave  the 
highroad  and  make  his  way  through  the  adjoining 
thickets  his  Adversary  avails  Himself  of  the  cover  to 
assume  a  new  form,  that  of  a  lion  or  a  bear  lying  in 
ambush.*  The  consequence  is  that  the  hapless  man 
is  torn  as  by  the  claws  and  fangs  of  beasts  of  prey.^ 
But  now  these  wild  regions  in  which  the  wretched 
traveller  is  wandering  at  the  peril  of  his  life  suggest 
the  idea  of  the  chase.  The  image  of  the  savage  animals 
is  defective  in  this  respect,  that  man  is  their  superior 
in  intelligence,  though  not  in  strength.  But  in  the 
present  case  the  victim  is  in  every  way  inferior  to  his 
Pursuer.  So  God  appears  as  the  Huntsman,  and  the 
unhappy  sufferer  as  the  poor  hunted  game.  The  bow 
is  bent,  and  the  arrow  directed  straight  for  its  mark." 
Nay,  arrow  after  arrow  has  already  been  let  fly,  and 
the  dreadful  Huntsman,  too  skilful  ever  to  miss  His 
mark,  has  been  shooting  "  the  sons  of  His  quiver " 
into  the  very  vitals  of  the  object  of  His  pursuit.^ 


'  Hi.  7.  *  i.ii.  9.  *  iii.  11.  '  iii. 

^  iii.  8.  ••  iii.  10.  <*  iii.  12. 


1 88  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

Here  the  poet  breaks  away  from  his  imagery  for  a 
second  time  to  tell  us  that  he  has  become  an  object  of 
derision  to  all  his  people,  and  the  theme  of  their  mock- 
ing songs.-^  This  is  a  striking  statement.  It  shews 
that  the  afflicted  man  is  not  simply  one  member  of  the 
smitten  nation  of  Israel,  sharing  the  common  hardships 
of  the  race  whose  **  badge  is  servitude."  He  not  merely 
experiences  exceptional  sufferings.  He  meets  with  no 
sympathy  from  his  fellow-countrymen.  On  the  con- 
trary, these  people  so  far  dissociate  themselves  from 
his  case  that  they  can  find  amusement  in  his  misery. 
Thus,  while  even  a  misguided  Don  Quixote  is  a  noble 
character  in  the  rare  chivalry  of  his  soul,  and  while 
his  very  delusions  are  profoundly  pathetic,  many  people 
can  only  find  material  for  laughter  in  them,  and  pride 
themselves  in  their  superior  sanity  for  so  doing,  although 
the  truth  is,  their  conduct  proves  them  to  be  incapable 
of  understanding  the  lofty  ideals  that  inspire  the  object 
of  their  empty  derision ;  thus  Jeremiah  was  mocked 
by  his  unthinking  contemporaries,  when,  whether  in 
error,  as  they  supposed,  or  wisely,  as  the  event  shewed, 
he  preached  an  apparently  absurd  policy ;  and  thus  a 
greater  than  Jeremiah,  One  as  supreme  in  reasonable- 
ness as  in  goodness,  was  jeered  at  by  men  who  thought 
Him  at  best  a  Utopian  dreamer,  because  they  were 
grovelling  in  earthly  thoughts  far  out  of  reach  of  the 
spiritual  world  in  ^\\hich  He  moved. 

Returning  to  imag^ery,  the  poet  pictures  himself  as 
a  hardly  used  guest  at  a  feast.  He  is  fed,  crammed, 
sated ;  but  his  food  i'$  bitterness,  the  cup  has  been 
forced  to  his  lips,  and  ne  has  been  made  drunk — not 
with  pleasant    wine,    however,    but    with    wormwood.^ 

'  iii.  14.  ^  iii.  15 


iii.  I-2I  ]    THE  MAN  THAT  HATH  SEEN  AFFLICTION     189 

Gravel  has  been  mixed  with  his  bread,  or  perhaps 
the  thought  is  that  when  he  has  asked  for  bread 
stones  have  been  given  him.  He  has  been  compelled 
to  masticate  this  unnatural  diet,  so  that  his  teeth  have 
been  broken  by  it.  Even  that  result  he  ascribes  to 
God,  saying,  "  He  hath  broken  my  teeth."  ^  It  is 
difficult  to  think  of  the  interference  with  personal 
liberty  being  carried  farther  than  this.  Here  we  reach 
the  extremity  of  crushed  misery. 

Reviewing  the  whole  course  of  his  wretched  sufferings 
from  the  climax  of  misery,  the  man  who  has  seen  all 
this  affliction  declares  that  God  has  cast  him  off  from 
peace.^  The  Christian  sufferer  knows  what  a  profound 
consolation  there  is  in  the  possession  of  the  peace  of 
God,  even  when  he  is  passing  through  the  most  acute 
agonies — a  peace  which  can  be  maintained  both  amid 
the  wildest  tempests  of  external  adversity  and  in  the 
presence  of  the  fiercest  paroxysms  of  personal  anguish. 
Is  it  not  the  acknowledged  secret  of  the  martyrs' 
serenity  ?  Happily  many  an  obscure  sufferer  has 
discovered  it  for  himself,  and  found  it  better  than  any 
balm  of  Gilead.  This  most  precious  gift  of  heaven 
to  suffering  souls  is  denied  to  the  man  who  here 
bewails  his  dismal  fate.  So  too  it  was  denied  to  Jesus 
in  the  garden,  and  again  on  the  cross.  It  is  possible 
that  the  dark  day  will  come  when  it  will  be  denied  to 
one  or  another  of  His  people.  Then  the  experience 
of  the  moment  will  be  terrible  indeed.  But  it  will  be 
brief  An  angel  ministered  to  the  Sufferer  in  Geth- 
semane.  The  joy  of  the  resurrection  followed  swiftly 
on  the  agonies  of  Calvary.  In  the  elegy  we  are  now 
studying  a  burst  of  praise  and  glad  confidence  breaks 

iii.  16.  ■^  iii.  17. 


I90  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

out  almost  immediately  after  the  lowest  depths  of 
misery  have  been  sounded,  shewing  that,  as  Keats 
declares  in  an  exquisite  line — 

"There  is  a  budding  morrow  in  midnight." 

It  is  not  surprising,  however,  that,  for  the  time  being, 
the  exceeding  blackness  of  the  night  keeps  the  hope 
of  a  new  day  quite  out  of  sight.  The  elegist  exclaims 
that  he  has  lost  the  very  idea  of  prosperity.  Not  only 
has  his  strength  perished,  his  hope  in  God  has  perished 
also.-^  Happily  God  is  far  too  good  a  Father  to  deal 
with  His  children  according  to  the  measure  of  their 
despair.  He  is  found  by  those  who  are  too  despondent 
to  seek  Him,  because  He  is  always  seeking  His  lost 
children,  and  not  waiting  for  them  to  make  the  first 
move  towards  Him. 

When  we  come  to  look  at  the  series  of  pictures  oi 
afQiction  as  a  whole  we  shall  notice  that  one  general 
idea  runs  through  them.  This  is  that  the  victim  is 
hindered,  hampered,  restrained.  He  is  led  into  dark- 
ness, besieged,  imprisoned,  chained,  driven  out  of  his 
way,  seized  in  ambuscade,  hunted,  even  forced  to  eat 
unwelcome  food.  This  must  all  point  to  a  specific 
character  of  personal  experience.  The  troubles  of 
the  sufferer  have  mainly  assumed  the  form  of  a 
thwarting  of  his  efforts.  He  has  not  been  an  indolent, 
Vv'eak,  cowardly  creature,  succumbing  at  the  first  sign 
of  opposition.  To  an  active  man  with  a  strong  will 
resistance  is  one  of  the  greatest  of  troubles,  although 
it  will  be  accepted  meekly,  as  a  matter  of  course,  by  a 
person  of  servile  habits.  If  the  opposition  comes  from 
God,  may  it  not  be  that  the  severity  of  the  trouble  is 


iii.  I-2I.]    THE  MAN  THAT  HATH  SEEN  AFFLICTION    191 

just  caused  b}^  the  obstinacy  of  self-will  ?  Certainly 
it  does  not  appear  to  be  so  here  ;  but  then  we  must 
remember  the  writer  is  stating  his  own  case. 

Two  other  characteristics  of  the  whole  passage  may 
be  mentioned.  One  is  the  persistence  of  the  Divine 
antagonism.  This  is  what  makes  the  case  look  so  hard. 
The  pursuer  seems  to  be  ruthless  ;  He  w^ill  not  let 
his  victim  alone  for  a  moment.  One  device  follows 
sharply  on  another.  There  is  no  escape.  The  second 
of  these  characteristics  of  the  passage  is  a  gradual 
aggravation  in  the  severity  of  the  trials.  At  first  God 
is  only  represented  as  a  guide  who  misleads ;  then  He 
appears  as  a  besieging  enemy  ;  later  like  a  destro3'er. 
And  correspondingly  the  troubles  of  the  sufferer  grow 
in  severity,  till  at  last  he  is  flung  into  the  ashes, 
crushed  and  helpless. 

All  this  is  peculiarly  painful  reading  to  us  with  our 
Christian  thoughts  of  God.  It  seems  so  utterly  con- 
trary to  the  character  of  our  Father  revealed  in  Jesus 
Christ.  But  then  it  is  not  a  part  of  the  Christian 
revelation,  nor  was  it  uttered  by  a  man  who  had 
received  the  benefits  of  that  highest  teaching.  That, 
however,  is  not  a  complete  explanation.  The  dreadful 
thoughts  about  God  that  are  here  recorded  are  almiost 
without  parallel  even  in  the  Old  Testament.  How  con- 
trar^^  they  are  to  such  an  idea  as  that  of  the  pitiful  Father 
in  Psalm  ciii. !  On  the  other  hand,  it  should  be  remem- 
bered that  if  ever  we  have  to  make  allowance  for  the 
personal  equation  we  must  be  ready  to  do  so  most 
hberally  when  we  are  listening  to  the  tale  of  his 
wrongs  as  this  is  recounted  by  the  sufferer  himself. 
The  narrator  may  be  perfectly  honest  and  truthful, 
but  it  is  not  in  human  nature  to  be  impartial  under 
such  circumstances.      Even  when,  as    in    the    present 


THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


instance,  we  have  reason  to  believe  that  the  speaker 
is  under  the  influence  of  a  Divine  inspiration,  we  have 
no  right  to  conclude  that  this  gift  would  enable  him  to 
take  an  all-round  vision  of  truth.  Still,  can  we  deny- 
that  the  elegist  has  presented  to  our  minds  but  one 
facet  of  truth  ?  If  we  do  not  accept  it  as  intended  for  a 
complete  picture  of  God,  and  if  we  confine  it  to  an 
account  of  the  Divine  action  under  certain  circumstances 
as  this  appears  to  one  who  is  most  painfully  affected 
by  it,  without  any  assertion  concerning  the  ultimate 
motives  of  God — and  this  is  all  we  have  any  justifica- 
tion for  doing — it  may  teach  us  important  lessons  which 
we  are  too  ready  to  ignore  in  favour  of  less  unpleasant 
notions.  Finally  it  would  be  quite  unfair  to  the  elegist, 
and  it  would  give  us  a  totally  false  impression  of  his 
ideas,  if  we  were  to  go  no  further  than  this.  To  under- 
stand him  at  all  we  must  hear  him  out.  The  contrast 
between  the  first  part  of  this  poem  and  the  second  is 
startling  in  the  extreme,  and  we  must  not  forget  that 
the  two  are  set  in  the  closest  juxtaposition,  for  it  is 
plain  that  the  one  is  intended  to  balance  the  other. 
The  harshness  of  the  opening  words  could  be  per- 
mitted with  the  more  daring,  because  a  perfect  correc- 
tive to  any  unsatisfactory  inferences  that  might  be 
drawn  from  it  was  about  to  be  immediately  supplied. 

The  triplet  of  verses  19  to  21  serves  as  a  transition 
to  the  picture  of  the  other  side  of  the  Divine  action. 
It  begins  with  prayer.  Thus  a  new  note  is  struck. 
The  sufferer  knows  that  God  is  not  at  heart  his  enemy. 
So  he  ventures  to  beseech  the  very  Being  concerning 
whose  treatment  of  him  he  has  been  complaining  so 
bitterly,  to  remember  his  affliction  and  the  misery  it 
has  brought  on  him,  the  wormwood,  the  gall  of  his 
hard    lot.     Hope  now  dawns  on    him  out  of  his  own 


iii.  I-I2.]    THE  MAN  THAT  HATH  SEEN  AFFLICTION     193 

recollections.  What  are  these  ?  The  Authorised 
Version  would  lead  us  to  think  that  when  he  uses  the 
expression,  "  This  I  recall  to  my  mind,"  ^  the  poet  is 
referring  to  the  encouraging  ideas  of  the  verses  that 
immediately  follow  in  the  next  section.  But  it  is  not 
probable  that  the  last  line  of  a  triplet  would  thus  point 
forward  to  another  part  of  the  poem.  It  is  more  con- 
sonant with  the  method  of  the  composition  to  take  this 
phrase  in  connection  with  what  precedes  it  in  the  same 
triplet,  and  a  perfectly  permissible  change  in  the  trans- 
lation of  the  20th  verse  gives  good  sense  in  that 
connection.     We  may  read  this  : 

"Thou    (O  God)  wilt   surely   remember,    for   my   soul    is  bowed 
down  within  me." 

Thus  the  recollection  that  God  too  has  a  memory 
and  that  He  will  remember  His  suffering  servant 
becomes  the  spring  of  a  new  hope. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE    UNFAILING    GOODNESS    OF    GOD 
iii.  22-4 

ALTHOUGH  the  elegist  has  prepared  us  for  brighter 
scenes  by  the  more  hopeful  tone  of  an  intermediate 
triplet,  the  transition  from  the  gloom  and  bitterness  of 
the  first  part  of  the  poem  to  the  glowing  rapture  of 
the  second  is  among  the  most  startling  effects  in  litera- 
ture. It  is  scarcely  possible  to  conceive  of  darker  views 
of  Providence,  short  of  a  Manichaean  repudiation  of  the 
God  of  the  physical  universe  as  an  evil  being,  than 
those  which  are  boldly  set  forth  in  the  opening  verses 
of  the  elegy ;  we  shudder  at  the  awful  words,  and 
shrink  from  repeating  them,  so  near  to  the  verge  of 
blasphemy  do  they  seem  to  come.  And  now  those 
appalling  utterances  are  followed  by  the  very  choicest 
expression  of  confidence  in  the  boundless  goodness  of 
God  1  The  writer  seems  to  leap  in  a  moment  out  of 
the  deepest,  darkest  pit  of  misery  into  the  radiance 
of  more  than  summer  sunlight.  How  can  we  account 
for  this  extraordinary  change  of  thought  and  temper  ? 

It  is  not  enough  to  ascribe  the  sharpness  of  the  con- 
trast either  to  the  clumsiness  of  the  author  in  giving 
utterance  to  his  teeming  fancies  just  as  they  occur  to 
him,  without  any  consideration  for  their  bearings  one 
upon  another  ;  or  to  his  art  in  designedly  preparing  an 
194 


iii.22-4.]     THE   UNFAILING   GOODNESS   OF  GOD  195 

awakening  shock.  We  have  still  to  answer  the  question, 
How  could  a  man  entertain  two  such  conflicting  currents 
of  thought  in  closest  juxtaposition  ? 

In  their  very  form  and  structure  these  touching 
elegies  reflect  the  mental  calibre  of  their  author.  A 
wooden  soul  could  never  have  invented  their  move- 
ments. They  reveal  a  most  sensitive  spirit,  a  spirit 
that  resembles  a  finely  strung  instrument  of  music, 
quivering  in  response  to  impulses  from  all  directions. 
People  of  a  mercurial  temperament  live  in  a  state  of 
perpetual  oscillation  between  the  most  contrary  moods, 
and  the  violence  of  their  despair  is  always  ready  to 
give  place  to  the  enthusiasm  of  a  new  hope.  We  call 
them  inconsistent ;  but  their  inconsistency  may  spring 
from  a  quick-witted  capacity  to  see  two  sides  of  a 
question  in  the  time  occupied  by  slower  minds  with 
the  contemplation  of  one.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  however, 
the  revulsion  in  the  mind  of  the  poet  may  not  have 
been  so  sudden  as  it  appears  in  his  work.  We  can 
scarcely  suppose  that  so  elaborate  a  composition  as 
this  elegy  was  written  from  beginning  to  end  at  a 
single  sitting.  Indeed,  here  we  seem  to  have  the 
mark  of  a  break.  The  author  composes  the  first  part 
in  an  exceptionally  gloomy  mood,  and  leaves  the  poem 
unfinished,  perhaps  for  some  time.  When  he  returns 
to  it  on  a  subsequent  occasion  he  is  in  a  totally  different 
frame  of  mind,  and  this  is  reflected  in  the  next  stage  of 
his  work.  Still  the  point  of  importance  is  the  possibility 
of  the  very  diverse  views  here  recorded. 

Nor  is  this  wholly  a  matter  of  temperament.  Is  it 
not  more  or  less  the  case  with  all  of  us,  that  since 
absorption  with  one  class  of  ideas  entirely  excludes 
their  opposites,  when  the  latter  are  allowed  to  enter 
the  mind  they  will  rush  in  with  the  force  of  a  pent-up 


196  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

flood  ?  Then  we  are  astonished  that  we  could  ever 
have  forgotten  them.  We  build  our  theories  in  dis- 
regard of  vv^hole  regions  of  thought.  When  these 
occur  to  us  it  is  with  the  shock  of  a  sudden  discovery, 
and  in  the  flash  of  the  new  light  we  begin  at  once  to 
take  very  different  views  of  our  universe.  Possibly 
we  have  been  oblivious  of  our  own  character,  until 
suddenly  we  are  awakened  to  our  true  state,  to  be 
overwhelmed  with  shame  at  an  unexpected  revela- 
tion of  sordid  meanness,  of  despicable  selfishness.  Or 
perhaps  the  vision  is  of  the  heart  of  another  person, 
whose  quiet,  unassuming  goodness  we  have  not  ap- 
preciated, because  it  has  been  so  unvarying  and 
dependable  that  we  have  taken  it  as  a  matter  of  course, 
like  the  daily  sunrise,  never  perceiving  that  this  very 
constancy  is  the  highest  merit.  We  have  been  more 
grateful  for  the  occasional  lapses  into  kindness  with 
which  habitually  churlish  people  have  surprised  us. 
Then  there  has  come  the  revelation,  in  which  we  have 
been  made  to  see  that  a  saint  has  been  walking  by  our 
side  all  the  day.  Many  of  us  are  very  slow  in  reaching 
a  similar  discovery  concerning  God.  But  when  we 
begin  to  take  a  right  view  of  His  relations  to  us  we 
are  amazed  to  think  that  we  had  not  perceived  them 
before,  so  rich  and  full  and  abounding  are  the  proofs  of 
His  exceeding  goodness. 

Still  it  may  seem  to  us  a  strange  thing  that  this  most 
perfect  expression  of  a  joyous  assurance  of  the  mercy 
and  compassion  of  God  should  be  found  in  the  Book  of 
Lamentations  of  all  places.  It  may  well  give  heart  to 
those  who  have  not  sounded  the  depths  of  sorrow,  as 
the  author  of  these  sad  poems  had  done,  to  learn  that 
even  he  had  been  able  to  recognise  the  merciful  kind- 
ness of  God  in  the  largest  possible  measure.     A  little 


iii.  22-4.]     THE    UNFAILING   GOODNESS   OF  GOD  197 


reflection,  however,  should  teach  us  that  it  is  not  so 
unnatural  a  thing  for  this  gem  of  grateful  appreciation 
to  appear  where  it  is.  We  do  not  find,  as  a  rule,  that 
the  most  prosperous  people  are  the  foremost  to  recognise 
the  love  of  God.  The  reverse  is  ver}^  frequently  the 
case.  If  prosperity  is  not  alv^^ays  accompanied  by 
callous  ingratitude — and  of  course  it  would  be  grossly 
unjust  to  assert  anything  so  harsh — at  all  events  it  is 
certain  that  adversity  is  far  from  blinding  our  eyes  to 
the  brighter  side  of  the  revelation  of  God.  Sometimes 
it  is  the  very  means  by  which  they  are  opened.  In 
trouble  the  blessings  of  the  past  are  best  valued,  and 
in  trouble  the  need  of  God's  compassion  is  most  acutel}' 
felt.  But  this  is  not  all.  The  softening  influence  of 
sorrow  seems  to  have  a  more  direct  effect  upon  our 
sense  of  Divine  goodness.  Perhaps,  too,  it  is  some 
compensation  for  melancholy,  that  persons  who  are 
afflicted  with  it  are  most  responsive  to  sympathy.  The 
morbid,  despondent  poet  Cowper  has  writtten  most 
exquisitely  about  the  love  of  God.  Watts  is  enthusi- 
astic in  his  praise  of  the  Divine  grace  ;  but  a  deeper 
note  is  sounded  in  the  Olney  hymns,  as,  for  example,  in 
that  beginning  with  the  line — 

"Hark,  my  soul,  it  is  the  Lord." 

While  reading  this  hymn  to-day  we  cannot  fail  to  feel 
the  peculiar  thrill  of  personal  emotion  that  still  quivers 
through  its  living  words,  revealing  the  very  soul  of  their 
author.  This  is  more  than  jo3^ous  praise  ;  it  is  the 
expression  of  a  personal  experience  of  the  compassion 
of  God  in  times  of  deepest  need.  The  same  sensitive 
poet  has  given  us  a  description  of  the  very  condition 
that  is  illustrated  by  the  passage  in  the  Hebrew  elegist 
we  are   now  considering,    in  lines  which,    familiar   as 


198  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 


they  are,  acquire  a  fresh  meaning  when  read  in  this 
association — the  hnes — 

"  Sometimes  a  light  surprises 

The  Christian  while  he  sings : 
It  is  the  Lord  who  rises 

"With  healing  in  His  wings. 
When  comforts  are  declining, 

He  grants  the  soul,  again, 
A  season  of  clear  shining, 

To  cheer  it  after  rain." 

We  may  thank  the  Calvinistic  poet  for  here  touching 
on  another  side  of  the  subject.  He  reminds  us  that 
it  is  God  who  brings  about  the  unexpected  joy  of 
renewed  trust  in  His  unfaiHng  mercy.  The  sorrowful 
soul  is,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  visited  by  the 
Holy  Spirit,  and  the  effect  of  contact  with  the  Divine 
is  that  scales  fall  from  the  eyes  of  the  surprised 
sufferer.  If  it  is  right  to  say  that  one  portion  of 
Scripture  is  more  inspired  than  another  we  must  feel 
that  there  is  more  Divine  hght  in  the  second  part  of 
this  elegy  than  in  the  first.  It  is  this  surprising  light 
from  Heaven  that  ultimately  accounts  for  the  sudden 
revolution  in  the  feelings  of  the  poet. 

In  his  new  consciousness  of  the  love  of  God  the 
elegist  is  first  struck  by  its  amazing  persistence.  Pro- 
bably we  should  follow  the  Targum  and  the  Syriac 
version   in   rendering  the  twenty-second  verse   thus — 

"The  Lord's  mercies,  verily  they  cease  not,"  etc. 

instead  of  the  usual  English  rendering — 

"It  is  of  the  Lord's  mercies  that  we  are  not  consumed,"  etc. 

There  are  two  reasons  for  this  emendation.  First, 
the  momentary  transition  to  the  plural  *'  we  "  is  harsh 
and  improbable.     It  is  true  the  author  makes  a  some- 


iii.  22-4.]     THE   UNFAILING   GOODNESS   OF  GOD  199 

what  similar  change  a  httle  later ;  ^  but  there  it  is  in 
an  extended  passage,  and  one  in  which  he  evidently 
wishes  to  represent  his  people  with  ideas  that  are 
manifestly  appropriate  to  the  community  at  large. 
Here,  on  the  other  hand,  the  sentence  breaks  into  the 
midst  of  personal  reflections.  Second — and  this  is  the 
principal  consideration — the  balance  of  the  phrases, 
which  is  so  carefully  observed  throughout  this  elegy, 
is  upset  by  the  common  rendering,  but  restored  by  the 
emendation.  The  topic  of  the  triplet  in  which  the 
disputed  passage  occurs  is  the  amazing  persistence 
of  God's  goodness  to  His  suffering  children.  The 
proposed  alteration  is  in  harmony  with  this. 

The  thought  here  presented  to  us  rests  on  the  truth 
of  the  eternity  and  essential  changelessness  of  God. 
We  cannot  think  of  Him  as  either  fickle  or  failing; 
to  do  so  would  be  to  cease  to  think  of  Him  as  God. 
If  He  is  merciful  at  all  He  cannot  be  merciful  only  spas- 
modically, erratically,  or  temporarily.  For  all  that,  we 
need  not  regard  these  heart-stirring  utterances  as  the 
expressions  of  a  self-evident  truism.  The  wonder  and 
glory  of  the  idea  they  dilate  upon  are  not  the  less  for 
the  fact  that  we  should  entertain  no  doubt  of  its  truth. 
The  certainty  that  the  character  of  God  is  good  and 
great  does  not  detract  from  His  goodness  or  His  great- 
ness. When  we  are  assured  that  His  nature  is  not 
faUible  our  contemplation  of  it  does  not  cease  to  be  an 
act  of  adoration.  On  the  contrary,  we  can  worship 
the  immutable  perfection  of  God  with  fuller  praises 
than  we  should  give  to  fitful  gleams  of  less  abiding 
qualities. 

As   a   matter   of   fact,    however,    our   religious    ex- 

'  iii.  40-8. 


200  THE  LAMENT  A  TIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

perience  is  never  the  simple  conclusion  of  bare  logic. 
Our  feelings,  and  not  these  only,  but  also  our  faith, 
need  repeated  assurances  of  the  continuance  of  God's 
goodness,  because  it  seems  as  though  there  were  so 
much  to  absorb  and  quench  it.  Therefore  the  per- 
ception of  the  fact  of  its  continuance  takes  the  form 
of  a  glad  wonder  that  God's  mercies  do  not  cease. 
Thus  it  is  amazing  to  us  that  these  mercies  are  not 
consumed  by  the  multitude  of  the  sufferers  who  are 
dependent  upon  them — the  extent  of  God's  family  not 
in  any  way  cramping  His  means  to  give  the  richest 
inheritance  to  each  of  His  children  ;  nor  by  the  depth 
of  individual  need — no  single  soul  having  wants  so 
extreme  or  so  peculiar  that  His  aid  cannot  avail 
entirely  for  them ;  nor  by  the  shocking  ill-desert  of 
the  most  unworthy  of  mankind — even  sin,  while  it 
necessarily  excludes  the  guilty  from  any  present  enjoy- 
ment of  the  love  of  God,  not  really  quenching  that 
love  or  precluding  a  future  participation  in  it  on  con- 
dition of  repentance ;  nor  by  the  wearing  of  time, 
beneath  which  even  granite  rocks  crumble  to  powder. 

The  elegist  declares  that  the  reason  why  God's 
mercies  are  not  consumed  is  that  His  compassions  do 
not  fail.  Thus  he  goes  behind  the  kind  actions  of  God 
to  their  originating  motives.  To  a  man  in  the  con- 
dition of  the  writer  of  this  poem  of  personal  confidences 
the  Divine  sympathy  is  the  one  fact  in  the  universe 
of  supreme  importance.  So  will  it  be  to  every  sufferer 
who  can  assure  himself  of  the  truth  of  it.  But  is  this 
only  a  consolation  for  the  sorrowing  ?  The  pathos, 
the  very  tragedy  of  human  life  on  earth,  should  make 
the  sympathy  of  God  the  most  precious  fact  of  exist- 
ence to  all  mankind.  Portia  rightly  reminds  Shylock 
that  "  we  all  do  look  for  mercy  "  ;  but  if  so,  the  spring 


iii.22-4.]  THE    UNFAILING   GOODNESS   OF  GOD 


of  mercy,  the  Divine  compassion,  must  be  the  one 
source  of  true  hope  for  every  soul  of  man.  "Whether 
\ve  are  to  attribute  it  to  sin  alone,  or  whether  there 
may  be  other  dark,  mysterious  ingredients  in  human 
sorrow,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  deepest  need 
is  that  God  should  have  pity  on  His  children.  The 
worship  of  heaven  among  the  angels  may  be  one  pure 
song  of  joy  ;  but  here,  even  though  we  are  privileged 
to  share  the  gladness  of  the  celestial  praises,  a  plaintive 
note  will  mingle  with  our  anthem  of  adoration,  because 
a  pleading  cry  must  ever  go  up  from  burdened  spirits ; 
and  when  relief  is  acknowledged  our  thanksgiving 
must  single  out  the  compassion  of  God  for  deepest 
gratitude.  It  is  much,  then,  to  know  that  God  not 
only  helps  the  needy— that  is  to  say,  all  mankind — but 
that  He  feels  with  His  suffering  children.  The  author 
of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  has  taught  us  to  see 
this  reassuring  truth  most  clearly  in  the  revelation  of 
God  in  His  Son,  repeatedly  dwelling  on  the  sufferings 
of  Christ  as  the  means  by  which  He  was  brought 
into  sympathetic,  helpful  relations  to  the  sufferings  of 
mankind.^ 

Further,  the  elegist  declares  that  the  special  form 
taken  by  these  unceasing  mercies  of  God  is  daily 
renewal.  The  love  of  God  is  constant — one  change- 
less Divine  attribute  ;  but  the  manifestations  of  that 
love  are  necessarily  successive  and  various  according 
to  the  successive  and  various  needs  ot  His  children. 
We  have  not  only  to  praise  God  for  His  eternal, 
immutable  goodness,  vast  and  wonderful  as  that  is  ; 
to  our  perceptions,  at  all  events,  His  immediate,  pre- 
sent actions  are    even    more  significant    because  they 

'   Heb.  ii.  18,  iv.  15. 


THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


shew  His  personal  interest  in  individual  men  and 
women,  and  His  living  activity  at  the  very  crisis  of 
need.  There  is  a  certain  aloofness,  a  certain  chillness, 
in  the  thought  of  ancient  kindness,  even  though  the 
effects  of  it  may  reach  to  our  own  day  in  full  and 
abundant  streams.  But  the  living  God  is  an  active 
God,  who  works  in  the  present  as  effectually  as  He 
worked  in  the  past.  There  is  another  side  to  this 
truth.  It  is  not  sufficient  to  have  received  the  grace 
of  God  once  for  all.  If  ''  He  giveth  more  grace,"  it 
is  because  we  need  more  grace.  This  is  a  stream  that 
must  be  ever  flowing  into  the  soul,  not  the  storage 
of  a  tank  filled  once  for  all  and  left  to  serve  for  a 
lifetime.  Therefore  the  channel  must  be  kept  con- 
stantly clear,  or  the  grace  will  fail  to  reach  us,  although 
in  itself  it  never  runs  dry. 

There  is  something  cheering  in  the  poet's  idea  of 
the  morning  as  the  time  when  these  mercies  of  God 
are  renewed.  It  has  been  suggested  that  he  is  think- 
ing of  renewals  of  brightness  after  dark  seasons  of 
sorrow,  such  as  are  suggested  by  the  words  of  the 
psalmist — 

"Weeping  may  come  in  to  lodge  at  even, 
But  joy  Cometh  in  the  morning."' 

This  idea,  however,  would  weaken  the  force  of  the 
passage,  which  goes  to  shew  that  God's  mercies  do  not 
fail,  are  not  interrupted.  The  emphasis  is  on  the 
thought  that  no  day  is  without  God's  new  mercies, 
not  even  the  day  of  darkest  trouble ;  and  further, 
there  is  the  suggestion  that  God  is  never  dilatory 
in  coming  to  our  aid.  He  does  not  keep  us  waiting 
and  wearying   while  He    tarries.     He    is  prompt  and 

'  Psalm  XXX.  5,  R.V.  Marg. 


iii.  22-4-]     THE   UNFAILING  GOODNESS   OF  GOD  203 

early  with  His  grace.  The  idea  may  be  compared 
with  that  of  the  promise  to  those  who  seek  God 
early,  literally,  in  the  morning}  Or  we  may  think 
of  the  night  as  the  time  of  repose,  when  we  are 
oblivious  of  God's  goodness,  although  even  through  the 
hours  of  darkness  He  who  neither  slumbers  nor  sleeps 
is  constantly  watching  over  His  unconscious  children. 
Then  in  the  morning  there  dawns  on  us  a  fresh  per- 
ception of  His  goodness.  If  we  are  to  realise  the 
blessing  sought  in  Sir  Thomas  Browne's  prayer,  and 
"Awake  into  some  holy  thought," 

no  more  holy  thought  can  be  desired  than  a  grateful 
recognition  of  the  new  mercies  on  which  our  eyes  open 
with  the  new  day.  A  morning  so  graciously  welcomed 
is  the  herald  of  a  day  of  strength  and  happy  con- 
fidence. 

To  the  notion  of  the  morning  renewal  of  the  mercies 
of  God  the  poet  appends  a  recognition  of  His  great 
faithfulness.  This  is  an  additional  thought.  Faithful- 
ness is  more  than  compassion.  There  is  a  strength 
and  a  stability  about  the  idea  that  goes  further  to 
insure  confidence.  It  is  more  than  the  fact  that  God 
is  true  to  His  word,  that  He  will  certainly  perform 
what  He  has  definitely  promised.  Fidelity  is  not 
confined  to  compacts — it  is  not  limited  to  the  question 
of  what  is  "  in  the  bond  "  ;  it  concerns  persons  rather 
than  phrases.  To  be  faithful  to  a  friend  is  more  than 
to  keep  one's  word  to  him.  We  may  have  given  him 
no  pledge  ;  and  yet  we  must  confess  to  an  obligation 
to  be  true — to  be  true  to  the  man  himself  Now  while 
we  are  called  upon  to  be  loyal  to  God,  there  is  a  sense 
in   which  we  may  venture  without  irreverence  to  say 

'  Prov.  viii.   17. 


204  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

that  He  may  be  expected  to  be  faithful  to  us.  He 
is  our  Creator,  and  He  has  placed  us  in  this  world  by 
His  own  will ;  His  relations  with  us  cannot  cease 
at  this  point.  So  Moses  pleaded  that  God,  having  led 
His  people  into  the  wilderness,  could  not  desert  them 
there ;  and  Jeremiah  even  ventured  on  the  daring 
prayer — 

"  Do  not  disgrace  the  throne  of  Thy  glory."  ' 

It  is  because  we  are  sure  the  just  and  true  God  could 
never  do  anything  so  base  that  His  faithfulness  be- 
comes the  ground  of  perfect  confidence.  It  may  be 
said,  on  the  other  hand,  that  we  cannot  claim  any  good 
thing  from  God  on  the  score  of  merit,  because  we 
only  deserve  wrath  and  punishment.  But  this  is  not 
a  question  of  merit.  Fidehty  to  a  friend  is  not  ex- 
hausted when  we  have  treated  him  according  to  his 
deserts.  It  extends  to  a  treatment  of  him  in  accord- 
ance with  the  direct  claims  of  friendship,  claims  which 
are  to  be  measured  by  need  rather  than  by  merit. 

The  conclusion  drawn  from  these  considerations  is 
given  in  an  echo  from  the  Psalms — 

'■The  Lord  is  my  portion."^ 

The  words  are  old  and  well-worn ;  but  they  obtain 
a  new  meaning  when  adopted  as  the  expression  of  a 
new  experience.  The  lips  have  often  chanted  them 
in  the  worship  of  the  sanctuary.  Now  they  are  the 
voice  of  the  soul,  of  the  very  life.  There  is  no 
plagiarism  in  such  a  quotation  as  this,  although  in 
making  it  the  poet  does  not  turn  aside  to  acknow- 
ledge his  obligation  to  the  earlier  author  who  coined 
the  immortal   phrase.     The   seizure  of  the   old   words 

'  Jer.  xiv.  21.  ■'  Psalm  Ixxiii.  26. 


iii.22-4.]     THE    UNFAILING   GOODNESS   OF  GOD  205 

by  the  soul  of  the  new  writer  make  them  his  own 
in  the  deepest  sense,  because  under  these  circum- 
stances it  is  not  their  literary  form,  but  their  spiritual 
significance,  that  gives  them  their  value.  This  is  true 
of  the  most  frequently  quoted  words  of  Scripture. 
They  are  new  words  to  every  soul  that  adopts  them 
as  the  expression  of  a  new  experience. 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  the  experience  now  reached 
is  something  over  and  above  the  conscious  reception 
of  daily  mercies.  The  Giver  is  greater  than  His  gifts, 
God  is  first  known  by  means  of  His  actions,  and  then 
being  thus  known  He  is  recognised  as  Himself  the 
portion  of  His  people,  so  that  to  possess  Him  is  their 
one  satisfying  joy  in  the  present  and  their  one  inspiring 
hope  for  the  future. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

QUIET  IVAITING 
iii.  25-36 

HAVING  struck  a  rich  vein,  our  author  proceeds 
to  work  it  with  energy.  Pursuing  the  ideas 
that  flow  out  of  the  great  truth  of  the  endless  goodness 
of  God,  and  the  immediate  inference  that  He  of  whom 
so  wonderful  a  character  can  be  affirmed  is  Himself 
the  soul's  best  possession,  the  poet  enlarges  upon  their 
wider  relations.  He  must  adjust  his  views  of  the 
whole  world  to  the  new-  situation  that  is  thus  opening 
out  before  him.  All  things  are  new  in  the  light  of  the 
splendid  vision  before  which  his  gloomy  meditations 
have  vanished  like  a  dream.  He  sees  that  he  is  not 
alone  in  enjoying  the  supreme  blessedness  of  the 
Divine  love.  The  revelation  that  has  come  to  him  is 
applicable  to  other  men  if  they  will  but  fulfil  the 
conditions  to  which  it  is  attached. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  necessary  to  perceive  clearly 
what  those  conditions  are  on  which  the  happy  experi- 
ence of  God's  unfailing  mercies  may  be  enjoyed  by  any 
man.  The  primary  requisite  is  affirmed  to  be  quiet 
waiting}  The  passivity  of  this  attitude  is  accentuated 
in  a  variety  of  expressions.  It  is  difficult  for  us  of  the 
modern   western    world   to   appreciate    such   teaching. 

'  iii.  26. 
206 


iii.  25-36.]  QUIET   WAITING  207 


No  doubt  if  it  stood  by  itself  it  would  be  so  one-sided 
as  to  be  positively  misleading.  But  this  is  no  more 
than  must  be  said  of  any  of  the  best  lessons  of  life. 
We  require  the  balancing  of  separate  truths  in  order 
to  obtain  truth,  as  we  want  the  concurrence  of  different 
impulses  to  produce  the  resultant  of  a  right  direction 
of  life.  But  in  the  present  case  the  opposite  end  of 
the  scale  has  been  so  much  overweighted  that  we  sorely 
need  a  very  considerable  addition  on  the  side  to  which 
the  elegist  here  leans.  Carlyle's  gospel  of  work — a 
most  wholesome  message  as  far  as  it  went — fell  on 
congenial  Anglo-Saxon  soil ;  and  this  and  the  like 
teaching  of  kindred  minds  has  brought  forth  a  rich 
harvest  in  the  social  activity  of  modern  English  life. 
The  Church  has  learnt  the  duty  of  working — which  is 
well.  She  does  not  appear  so  capable  of  attaining  the 
blessedness  of  waiting.  Our  age  is  in  no  danger  of 
the  dreaminess  of  quietism.  But  we  find  it  hard  to 
cultivate  what  Wordsworth  calls  "  wise  passiveness." 
And  yet  in  the  heart  of  us  we  feel  the  lack  of  this 
spirit  of  quiet.  Charles  Lamb's  essay  on  the  "  Quakers' 
Meeting "  charms  us,  not  only  on  account  of  its  ex- 
quisite literary  style,  but  also  because  it  reflects  a  phase 
of  life  which  we  own  to  be  most  beautiful. 

The  waiting  here  recommended  is  more  than  simple 
passiveness,  however,  more  than  a  bare  negation  of 
action.  It  is  the  very  opposite  of  lethargy  and  torpor. 
Although  it  is  quiet,  it  is  not  asleep.  It  is  open-eyed, 
watchful,  expectant.  It  has  a  definite  object  of  antici- 
pation, for  it  is  a  waiting  for  God  and  His  salvation  ; 
and  therefore  it  is  hopeful.  Nay,  it  has  a  certain 
activity  of  its  own,  for  it  seeks  God.  Still,  this  activity 
is  inward  and  quiet ;  its  immediate  aim  is  not  to  get 
at  some  visible  earthly  end,  however  much  this  may 


2o8  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

be  desired,  nor  to  attain  some  inward  personal  ex- 
perience, some  stage  in  the  soul's  culture,  such  as 
peace,  or  purity,  or  power,  although  this  may  be  the 
ultimate  object  of  the  present  anxiety ;  primarily  it 
seeks  God — all  else  it  leaves  in  His  hands.  Thus  it 
is  rather  a  change  in  the  tone  and  direction  of  the 
soul's  energies  than  a  state  of  repose.  It  is  the  attitude 
of  the  watchman  on  his  lonely  tower — calm  and  still, 
but  keen-eyed  and  alert,  while  down  below  in  the 
crowded  city  some  fret  themselves  with  futile  toil  and 
others  slumber  in  stupid  indifference. 

To  this  waiting  for  Him  and  definite  seeking  of  Him 
God  responds  in  some  special  manifestation  of  mercy. 
Although,  as  Jesus  Christ  tells  us,  our  Father  in  heaven 
"  maketh  His  sun  to  rise  on  the  evil  and  the  good,  and 
sendeth  rain  on  the  just  and  the  unjust,"  ^  the  fact 
here  distinctly  implied,  that  the  goodness  of  God  is 
exceptionally  enjoyed  on  the  conditions  now  laid  down, 
is  also  supported  by  our  Lord's  teaching  in  the  ex- 
hortations, "  Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  you ;  seek,  and 
ye  shall  find ;  knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  to  you ; 
for  every  one  that  asketh  receiveth  ;  and  he  that  seeketh 
findeth  ;  and  to  him  that  knocketh  it  shall  be  opened."  ^ 
St.  James  adds,  **  Ye  have  not  because  ye  ask  not."  ^ 
This,  then,  is  the  method  of  the  Divine  procedure. 
God  expects  His  children  to  wait  on  Him  as  well  as 
to  wait  for  Him,  We  cannot  consider  such  an  expec- 
tation unreasonable.  Of  course  it  would  be  foolish  to 
imagine  God  piquing  Himself  on  His  own  dignity,  so 
as  to  decline  aid  until  He  had  been  gratified  by  a  due 
observance  of  homage.  There  is  a  deeper  motive  for 
the  requirement.     God's  relations  with  men  and  women 

'  Matt.  V.  45.  -  vii.  7,  8.  »  james  iv.  2. 


iii.  25-36.]  QUIET   WAITING  209 


are  personal  and  individual ;  and  when  they  are  most 
happy  and  helpful  they  always  involve  a  certain  re- 
ciprocity. It  may  not  be  necessary  or  even  wise  to 
demand  definite  things  from  God  whenever  we  seek 
His  assistance  ;  for  He  knows  what  is  good,  while  we 
often  blunder  and  ask  amiss.  But  the  seeking  here 
described  is  of  a  different  character.  It  is  not  seeking 
things ;  it  is  seeking  God.  This  is  always  good. 
The  attitude  of  trust  and  expectancy  that  it  necessitates 
is  just  that  in  which  we  are  brought  into  a  receptive 
state.  It  is  not  a  question  of  God's  willingness  to  help  ; 
He  is  always  willing.  But  it  cannot  be  fitting  that  He 
should  act  towards  us  when  we  are  distrustful,  in- 
different, or  rebellious,  exactly  as  He  would  act  if  He 
were  approached  in  submission  and  trustful  expecta- 
tion. 

Quiet  waiting,  then,  is  the  right  and  fitting  condition 
for  the  reception  of  blessing  from  God.  But  the  elegist 
holds  more  than  this.  In  his  estimation  the  state  of 
mind  he  here  commends  is  itself  good  for  a  man.  It 
is  certainly  good  in  contrast  with  the  unhappy  alter- 
natives— feeble  fussiness,  wearing  anxiety,  indolent 
negligence,  or  blank  despair.  It  is  good  also  as  a 
positive  condition  of  mind.  He  has  reached  a  happy 
inward  attainment  who  has  cultivated  the  faculty  of 
possessing  his  soul  in  patience.  His  eye  is  clear  for 
visions  of  the  unseen.  To  him  the  deep  fountains  of 
life  are  open.  Truth  is  his,  and  peace  and  strength 
also.  When  we  add  to  this  calmness  the  distinct  aim 
of  seeking  God  we  may  see  how  the  blessedness  of  the 
condition  recommended  is  vastly  enhanced.  We  are 
all  insensibly  moulded  by  our  desires  and  aims.  The 
expectant  soul  is  transformed  into  the  image  of  the 
hope   it  pursues.     When  its  treasure  is  in  heaven  its 

14 


2IO  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

heart  is  there  also,  and  therefore  its  very  nature  be- 
comes heavenly. 

To  his  reflections  on  the  blessedness  of  quiet  waiting 
the  elegist  adds  a  very  definite  word  about  another 
experience,  declaring  that  "it  is  good  for  a  man  that 
he  bear  the  yoke  in  his  youth."  ^  This  interesting 
assertion  seems  to  sound  an  autobiographical  note, 
especially  as  the  whole  poem  treats  of  the  writer's 
personal  experience.  Some  have  inferred  that  the 
author  must  have  been  a  young  man  at  the  time  of 
writing.  But  if,  as  seems  probable,  he  is  calling  to 
mind  what  he  has  himself  passed  through,  this  may 
be  a  recollection  of  a  much  earlier  period  of  his  life. 
Thus  he  would  seem  to  be  recognising,  in  the  calm  of 
subsequent  reflection,  what  perhaps  he  may  have  been 
far  from  admitting  while  bearing  the  burdens,  that  the 
labours  and  hardships  of  his  youth  prove  to  have  been 
for  his  own  advantage.  This  truth  is  often  perceived 
in  the  meditations  of  mature  life,  although  it  is  not  so 
easily  acknowledged  in  the  hours  of  strain  and  stress. 

It  is  impossible  to  say  what  particular  yoke  the 
writer  is  thinking  about.  The  persecutions  inflicted 
on  Jeremiah  have  been  cited  in  illustration  of  this 
passage  ;  and  although  we  may  not  be  able  to  ascribe 
the  poem  to  the  great  prophet,  his  toils  and  troubles  will 
serve  as  instances  of  the  truth  of  the  words  of  the 
anonymous  writer,  for  undoubtedly  his  sympathies 
were  quickened  while  his  strength  was  ripened  by 
what  he  endured.  If  we  will  have  a  definite  meaning 
the  yoke  may  stand  for  one  of  three  things — for  in- 
struction, for  labour,  or  for  trouble.  The  sentence  is 
true   of  either  of  these   forms   of  yoke.     We  are  not 


ni.  27. 


iii.  25-36.]  QUIET   WAITING 


likely  to  dispute  the  advantages  of  youthful  education 
over  that  which  is  delayed  till  adult  age  ;  but  even  if 
the  acquisition    of  knowledge   is    here    suggested,    we 
cannot  suppose   it  to  be  book   knowledge,  it  must  be 
that  got  in  the  school  of  life.     Thus  we  are  brought  to 
,  the  other  two  meanings.     Then  the  connection  excludes 
the    notion  of  pleasant,   attractive   work,    so   that    the 
yoke  of  labour  comes  near  to  the  burden  of  trouble. 
This    seems    to    be    the    essential    idea    of  the  verse. 
Irksome  work,  painful  toil,  forced  labour  partaking  of 
the  nature  of  servitude — these  ideas  are  most  vividly 
suggested    by   the    image    of  a  yoke.     And    they    are 
what    we    most    shrink   from    in    youth.     Inactivity  is 
then  by  no  means  sought  or  desired.     The  very  exer- 
cise of  one's  energies  is  a  delight  at  the  time  of  their 
fresh  vigour.     But  this  exercise  must  be  in  congenial 
directions,   in   harmony  with   one's  tastes  and  inclina- 
tions, or  it  will  be  regarded  as  an  intolerable  burden. 
Liberty    is    sweet    in    youth ;  it    is    not    work   that    is 
dreaded,  but  compulsion.    Youth  emulates  the  bounding 
energies  of  the  war  horse,  but  it  has  a  great  aversion  to 
the  patient  toil  of  the  ox.     Hence  the  yoke  is  resented 
as    a   grievous    burden ;    for  the   yoke    signifies    com- 
pulsion and  servitude.     Now,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  this 
yoke   generally    has    to    be    borne    in    youth.     People 
might  be   more  patient  with  the  young  if  they  would 
but  consider  how  vexatious  it  must  be  to  the  shoulders 
that    are    not   yet  fitted  to  wear  it,  and  in   the   most 
liberty-loving  age.     As  time  passes  custom  makes  the 
yoke  easier  to  be   borne  ;   and  yet  then  it  is   usually 
lightened.     In   our  earlier  days  we   must  submit  and 
obey,  must  yield  and  serve.     This  is  the  rule  in  busi- 
ness,  the  drudgery  and  restraint    of  which  naturally 
attach  themselves  to  the  first  stages.     If  older  persons 


212  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

reflected  on  what  this  must  mean  at  the  very  time 
when  the  appetite  for  deHght  is  most  keen,  and  the 
love  of  freedom  most  intense,  they  would  not  press  the 
yoke  with  needless  harshness. 

But  now  the  poet  has  been  brought  to  see  that  it 
was  for  his  own  advantage  that  he  was  made  to  bear 
the  yoke  in  his  youth.  How  so  ?  Surely  not  because 
it  prevented  him  from  taking  too  rosy  views  of  life, 
and  so  saved  him  from  subsequent  disappointment. 
Nothing  is  more  fatal  to  youth  than  cynicism.  The 
young  man  who  professes  to  have  discovered  the 
hollowness  of  life  generally  is  in  danger  of  making 
his  own  life  a  hollow  and  wasted  thing.  The  elegist 
could  never  have  fallen  to  this  miserable  condition, 
or  he  would  not  have  written  as  he  has  done  here. 
With  faith  and  manly  courage  the  yoke  has  the  very 
opposite  effect.  The  faculty  of  cherishing  hope  in 
spite  of  present  hardships,  which  is  the  peculiar 
privilege  of  youth,  may  stand  a  man  in  stead  at  a 
later  time,  when  it  is  not  so  easy  to  triumph  over 
circumstances,  because  the  old  buoyancy  of  animal 
spirits,  which  means  so  much  in  early  days,  has 
vanished ;  and  then  if  he  can  look  back  and  see  how 
he  has  been  cultivating  habits  of  endurance  through 
years  of  discipline  without  his  soul  having  been  soured 
by  the  process,  he  may  well  feel  profoundly  thankful 
for  those  early  experiences  which  were  undoubtedly 
very  hard  in  their  rawness. 

The  poet's  reflections  on  the  blessedness  of  quiet 
waiting  are  followed  by  direct  exhortations  to  the 
behaviour  which  is  its  necessary  accompaniment — 
for  such  seems  to  be  the  meaning  of  the  next  triplet, 
verses  28  to  30.  The  Revisers  have  corrected  this 
from  the  indicative  mood,  as  it  stands  in  the  Authorised 


iii.  25-36.]  QUIET   JVAITING 


Version,  to  the  imperative — -"  Let  him  sit  alone,"  etc., 
"  Let  him  put  his  mouth  in  the  dust,"  etc.,  "  Let  him 
give  his  clieek  to  him  that  smiteth  him,"  etc.  The 
exhortations  flow  naturally  out  of  the  preceding  state- 
ments, but  the  form  they  assume  may  strike  us  as 
somewhat  singular.  Who  is  the  person  thus  indirectly 
addressed  ?  The  grammar  of  the  sentences  would 
invite  our  attention  to  the  "  man  "  of  the  twenty-seventh 
verse.  If  it  is  good  for  everybody  to  bear  the  yoke  in 
his  youth,  it  might  be  suggested  further  that  it  would  be 
well  for  ever^'body  to  act  in  the  manner  now  indicated 
— that  is  to  say,  the  advice  would  be  of  universal 
application.  We  must  suppose,  however,  that  the  poet 
is  thinking  of  a  sufferer  similar  to  himself. 

Now  the  point  of  the  exhortation  is  to  be  found 
in  the  fact  that  it  goes  beyond  the  placid  state  just 
described.  It  points  to  solitude,  silence,  submission, 
humiliation,  non-resistance.  The  principle  of  calm, 
trustful  expectancy  is  most  beautiful  ;  and  if  it  were 
regarded  by  itself  it  could  not  but  fascinate  us,  so  that 
we  should  wonder  how  it  would  be  possible  for  any- 
body to  resist  its  attractions.  But  immediately  we  try 
to  put  it  in  practice  we  come  across  some  harsh  and 
positively  repellent  features.  When  it  is  brought 
down  from  the  ethereal  regions  of  poetry  and  set  to 
work  among  the  gritty  facts  of  real  life,  how  soon  it 
seems  to  lose  its  glamour !  It  can  never  become  mean 
or  sordid ;  and  yet  its  surroundings  may  be  so.  Most 
humiliating  things  are  to  be  done,  most  insulting  things 
endured.  It  is  hard  to  sit  in  solitude  and  silence — 
a  UgoHno  in  his  tower  of  famine,  a  Bonnivard  in  his 
dungeon  ;  there  seems  to  be  nothing  heroic  in  tliis 
dreary  inactivity.  It  would  be  much  easier  to  atter.ipt 
some  deed  of  daring,  especially  if  that  were  in  the  heat 


214  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

of  battle.  Nothing  is  so  depressing  as  loneliness — the 
torture  of  a  prisoner  in  solitary  confinement.  And  yet 
now  there  must  be  no  word  of  complaint  because  the 
trouble  comes  from  the  very  Being  who  is  to  be  trusted 
for  deliverance.  There  is  a  call  for  action,  however, 
but  only  to  make  the  submission  more  complete  and 
the  humiliation  more  abject.  The  sufferer  is  to  lay 
his  mouth  in  the  dust  like  a  beaten  slave.^  Even 
this  he  might  brace  himself  to  do,  stifling  the  last 
remnant  of  his  pride  because  he  is  before  the  Lord  of 
heaven  and  earth.  But  it  is  not  enough.  A  yet  more 
bitter  cup  must  be  drunk  to  the  dregs.  He  must 
actually  turn  his  cheek  to  the  smiter,  and  quietly 
submit  to  reproach.^  God's  wrath  may  be  accepted 
as  a  righteous  retribution  from  above.  But  it  is  hard 
indeed  to  manifest  the  same  spirit  of  submission  in 
face  of  the  fierce  malignity  or  the  petty  spite  of  men. 
Yet  silent  waiting  involves  even  this.  Let  us  count 
the  cost  before  we  venture  on  the  path  which  looks  so 
beautiful  in  idea,  but  which  turns  out  to  be  so  very 
trying  in  fact. 

We  cannot  consider  this  subject  without  being 
reminded  of  the  teaching  and — a  more  helpful  memory 
— the  example  also  of  our  Lord.  It  is  hard  to  receive 
even  from  His  lips  the  command  to  turn  the  other 
cheek  to  one  who  has  smitten  us  on  the  right  cheek. 
But  when  we  see  Jesus  doing  this  very  thing  the  whole 
aspect  of  it  is  changed.  What  before  looked  weak 
and  cowardly  is  now  seen  to  be  the  perfection  of  true 
courage  and  the  height  of  moral  sublimity.  By  His 
own  endurance  of  insult  and  ignominy  our  Lord  has 
completely  revolutionised  our  ideas  of  humiliation.     His 

'   iii.   29.  -  iii.  30. 


iii.  25-36.]  QUIET  WAITING  215 


humiliation  was  His  glorification.  What  a  Roman 
would  despise  as  shameful  weakness  He  has  proved 
to  be  the  triumph  of  strength.  Thus,  though  we  may 
not  be  able  to  take  the  words  of  the  Lamentations  as 
a  direct  prophecy  of  Jesus  Christ,  they  so  perfectly 
realise  themselves  in  the  story  of  His  Passion,  that  to 
Christendom  they  must  always  be  viewed  in  the  light 
of  that  supreme  wonder  of  a  victory  won  through 
submission  ;  and  while  they  are  so  viewed  they  cannot 
fail  to  set  before  us  an  ideal  of  conduct  for  the  sufferer 
under  the  most  trying  circumstances. 

This  advice  is  not  so  paradoxical  as  it  appears.  We 
are  not  called  upon  to  accept  it  merely  on  the  authority 
of  the  speaker.  He  follows  it  up  by  assigning  good 
reasons  for  it.  These  are  all  based  on  the  assumption 
which  runs  through  the  elegies,  that  the  suiferings 
therein  described  come  from  the  hand  of  God.  They 
are  most  of  them  the  immediate  effects  of  man's  enmity. 
But  a  Divine  purpose  is  always  to  be  recognised  behind 
the  human  instrumentality.  This  fact  at  once  lifts  the 
whole  question  out  of  the  region  of  miserable,  earthly 
passions  and  mutual  recriminations.  In  apparently 
yielding  to  a  tyrant  from  among  his  fellov»^-men  the 
sufferer  is  really  submitting  to  his  God. 

Then  the  elegist  gives  us  three  reasons  why  the 
submission  should  be  complete  and  the  waiting  quiet. 
The  first  is  that  the  suffering  is  but  temporar3^  God 
seems  to  have  cast  off  His  afflicted  servant.  If  so 
it  is  but  for  a  season.^  This  is  not  a  case  of  absolute 
desertion.  The  sufferer  is  not  treated  as  a  reprobate. 
How  could  we  expect  patient  submission  from  a  soul 
that  had  passed  the  portals  of  a  hell  over  which  Dante's 

'  iii.  31,  32. 


2i6  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

awful  motto  of  despair  was  inscribed  ?  If  they  who 
entered  were  to  "  forsake  all  hope "  it  would  be  a 
mockery  to  bid  them  "  be  still."  It  would  be  more 
natural  for  these  lost  souls  to  shriek  with  the  fury  of 
madness.  The  first  ground  of  quiet  waiting  is  hope. 
The  second  is  to  be  found  in  God's  unwillingness  to 
afflict'  He  never  takes  up  the  rod,  as  we  might  say, 
con  amore.  Therefore  the  trial  will  not  be  unduly 
prolonged.  Since  God  Himself  grieves  to  inflict  it,  the 
distress  can  be  no  more  than  is  absolutely  necessary. 
The  third  and  last  reason  for  this  patience  of  submission 
is  the  certainty  that  God  cannot  commit  an  injustice. 
So  important  is  this  consideration  in  the  eyes  of  the 
elegist  that  he  devotes  a  complete  triplet  to  it,  illus- 
trating it  from  three  different  points  of  view.^  We 
have  the  conqueror  with  his  victims,  the  magistrate  in 
a  case  at  law,  and  the  private  citizen  in  business. 
Each  of  these  instances  affords  an  opportunity  for  in- 
justice. God  does  not  look  with  approval  on  the 
despot  who  crushes  all  his  prisoners — for  Nebuchad- 
nezzar's outrages  are  by  no  means  condoned,  although 
they  are  utilised  as  chastisements ;  nor  on  the  judge 
who  perverts  the  solemn  process  of  law,  when  deciding, 
according  to  the  Jewish  theocratic  idea,  in  place  of 
God,  the  supreme  Arbitrator,  and,  as  the  oath  testifies, 
in  His  presence ;  nor  on  the  man  who  in  a  private 
capacity  circumvents  his  neighbour.  But  how  can  we 
ascribe  to  God  what  He  will  not  sanction  in  man  ? 
"  Shall  not  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth  do  right  ?  "  ^  ex- 
claims the  perplexed  patriarch ;  and  we  feel  that  his 
plea  is  unanswerable.  But  if  God  is  just  we  can  afford 
to  be  patient.     And   yet  we   feel   that  while   there   is 

'  iii.  33.  -  iii.  34-6.  ^  Gen.  xviii.  25. 


iii.  25-36.]  QUIET  WAITING  217 

something  to  calm  us  and  alla}^  the  agonising  terrors 
of  despair  in  this  thought  of  the  unswerving  justice  of 
God,  we  must  fall  back  for  our  most  satisfying  assurance 
on  that  glorious  truth  which  the  poet  finds  confirmed 
by  his  daily  experience,  and  which  he  expresses  with 
such  a  glow  of  hope  in  the  rich  phrase,  "Yet  will  He 
have  compassion    according    to   the  multitude   of  His 


CHAPTER   XIV 

GOD  AND  EVIL 
iii.  37-9 

THE  eternal  problem  of  the  relation  of  God  to  evil 
is  here  treated  with  the  keenest  discrimination. 
That  God  is  the  supreme  and  irresistible  ruler,  that  no 
man  can  succeed  with  any  design  in  opposition  to  His 
will,  that  whatever  happens  must  be  in  some  way  an 
execution  of  His  decree,  and  that  He,  therefore,  is  to 
be  regarded  as  the  author  of  evil  as  well  as  good — 
these  doctrines  are  so  taken  for  granted  that  they  are 
neither  proved  nor  directly  affirmed,  but  thrown  into 
the  form  of  questions  that  can  have  but  one  answer, 
as  though  to  imply  that  they  are  known  to  everybody, 
and  cannot  be  doubted  for  a  moment  by  any  one.  But 
the  inference  drawn  from  them  is  strange  and  startling. 
It  is  that  not  a  single  living  man  has  any  valid  excuse 
for  complaining.  That,  too,  is  considered  to  be  so 
undeniable  that,  like  the  previous  ideas,  it  is  expressed 
as  a  self-answering  question.  But  we  are  not  left  in 
this  paradoxical  position.  The  evil  experienced  by  the 
sufferer  is  treated  as  the  punishment  of  his  sin.  What 
right  has  he  to  complain  of  that  ?  A  slightly  various 
rendering  has  been  proposed  for  the  thirty-ninth  verse, 
so  as  to  resolve  into  a  question  and  its  answer.  Read  in 
this  way,  it  asks,  why  should  a  living  man  complain  ? 
and  then  suggests  the  reply,  that  if  he  is  to  complain 
218 


iii.  37-9-]  GOD  AND  EVIL  219 

at  all  it  should  not  be  on  account  of  his  sufferings, 
treated  as  wrongs.  He  should  complain  against  him- 
self, his  own  conduct,  his  sin.  We  have  .seen,  however, 
in  other  cases,  that  the  breaking  of  a  verse  in  this  way 
is  not  in  harmony  with  the  smooth  style  of  the  elegiac 
poetry  in  which  the  words  occur.  This  requires  us  to 
take  the  three  verses  of  the  triplet  as  continuous, 
flowing  sentences. 

Quite  a  number  of  considerations  arise  out  of  the 
curious  juxtaposition  of  ideas  in  this  passage.  In 
the  first  place,  it  is  very  evident  that  by  the  word  "  evil  " 
the  writer  here  means  trouble  and  suffering,  not  wicked- 
ness, because  he  clearly  distinguishes  it  from  the  sin 
the  mention  of  which  follows.  That  sin  is  a  man's 
own  deed,  for  which  he  is  justly  punished.  The  poet, 
then,  does  not  attribute  the  causation  of  sin  to  God ; 
he  does  not  speculate  at  all  on  the  origin  of  moral  evil. 
As  far  as  he  goes  in  the  present  instance,  he  would 
seem  to  throw  back  the  authorship  of  it  upon  the  will 
of  man.  How  that  will  came  to  turn  astray  he  does 
not  say.  This  awful  mystery  remains  unsolved  through 
the  whole  course  of  the  revelation  of  the  Old  Testament, 
and  even  through  that  of  the  New  also.  It  cannot  be 
maintained  that  the  story  of  the  Fall  in  Genesis  is  a 
solution  of  the  mystery.  To  trace  temptation  back  to 
the  serpent  is  not  to  account  for  its  existence,  nor  for 
the  facility  with  which  man  was  found  to  yield  to  it. 
When,  at  a  later  period,  Satan  appears  on  the  stage,  it 
is  not  to  answer  the  perplexing  question  of  the  origin 
of  evil.  In  the  Old  Testament  he  is  nowhere  con- 
nected with  the  Fall — his  identification  with  the  serpent 
first  occurring  in  the   Book   of  Wisdom,^  from  which 

'  Wisdom  ii.  23  ft. 


THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


apparently  it  passed  into  current  language,  and  so  was 
adopted  by  St.  John  in  the  Apocalypse.^  At  first  Satan 
is  the  adversary  and  accuser  of  man,  as  in  Job  -  and 
Zechariah;^  then  he  is  recognised  as  the  tempter,  in 
Chronicles,  for  example.*  But  in  no  case  is  he  said 
to  be  the  primary  cause  of  evil.  No  plummet  can 
sound  the  depths  of  that  dark  pit  in  which  lurks  the 
source  of  sin. 

Meanwhile  a  very  different  problem,  the  problem  of 
suffering,  is  answered  by  attributing  this  form  of  evil 
quite  unreservedly  and  even  emphatically  to  God.  It  is 
to  be  remembered  that  our  Lord,  accepting  the  language 
of  His  contemporaries,  ascribes  this  to  Satan,  speaking 
of  the  woman  afflicted  with  a  spirit  of  infirmity  as  one 
whom  Satan  had  bound ;  ^  and  that  similarly  St.  Paul 
writes  of  his  thorn  in  the  tlesh  as  a  messenger  of 
Satan,"  to  whom  he  also  assigns  the  hindrance  of  a 
projected  journey.''  But  in  these  cases  it  is  not  in  the 
least  degree  suggested  that  the  evil  spirit  is  an  irre- 
sistible and  irresponsible  being.  The  language  only 
points  to  his  immediate  agency.  The  absolute  supremacy 
of  God  is  never  called  in  question.  There  is  no  real 
concession  to  Persian  dualism  anywhere  in  the  Bible. 
In  difficult  cases  the  sacred  writers  seem  more  anxious 
to  uphold  the  authority  of  God  than  to  justify  His 
actions.  They  are  perfectly  convinced  that  those  actions 
are  all  just  and  right,  and  not  to  be  called  in  question, 
and  so  they  are  quite  fearless  in  attributing  to  His 
direct  commands  occurrences  that  we  should  perhaps 
think  more  satisfactorily  accounted  for  in  some  other 


'  Rev.  xii.  9. 

•■*  Luke  xiii.  16. 

*  Job  i.  6-12,  ii. 

1-7- 

"  2  Cor.  xii.  7. 

'  Zcch.  iii.  I,  2. 

'    I  '.'liess.  ii.  lo 

■*   I  Chrcn.  xxi.  I 

37-9-]  GOD  AND  EVIL 


way.  In  such  cases  theirs  is  the  language  of  unfailing 
faith,  even  when  faith  is  strained  almost  to  breaking. 

The  unquestionable  fact  that  good  and  evil  both 
come  from  the  mouth  of  the  Most  High  is  based  on  the 
certain  conviction  that  He  is  the  Most  High.  Since  it 
cannot  be  believed  that  His  decrees  should  be  thwarted, 
it  cannot  be  supposed  that  there  is  any  rival  to  His 
power.  To  speak  of  evil  as  independent  of  God  is  to 
deny  that  He  is  God.  This  is  what  a  system  of  pure 
dualism  must  come  to.  If  there  are  two  mutually  in- 
dependent principles  in  the  universe  neither  of  them 
can  be  God.  Dualism  is  as  essentially  opposed  to  the 
idea  we  attach  to  the  name  *'  God "  as  polytheism. 
The  gods  of  the  heathen  are  no  gods,  and  so  also  are 
the  imaginary  twin  divinities  that  divide  the  universe 
between  them,  or  contend  in  a  vain  endeavour  to  sup- 
press one  another.  "God,"  as  we  understand  the  title, 
is  the  name  of  the  Supreme,  the  Almighty,  the  King  of 
kings  and  Lord  of  lords.  The  Zend-Avesta  escapes 
the  logical  conclusion  of  atheism  by  regarding  its  two 
principles,  Ormuzd  and  Ahriman,  as  two  streams 
issuing  from  a  common  fountain,  or  as  two  phases  of 
one  existence.  But  then  it  saves  its  theism  at  the 
expense  of  its  dualism.  In  practice,  however,  this  is 
not  done.  The  dualism,  the  mutual  antagonism  of  the 
two  powers,  is  the  central  idea  of  the  Parsee  system  ; 
and  being  so,  it  stands  in  glaring  contrast  to  the  lofty 
monism  of  the  Bible. 

Nevertheless,  it  may  be  said,  although  it  is  thus 
necessary  to  attribute  evil  as  well  as  good  to  God  if 
v/e  would  not  abandon  the  thought  of  His  supremacy, 
a  thought  that  is  essential  to  our  conception  of  His 
very  nature,  this  is  a  perplexing  necessity,  and  not  one 
to  be   accepted  with  any  sense  of  satisfaction.     How 


THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


then  can  the  elegist  welcome  it  with  acclamation  and 
set  it  before  us  with  an  air  of  triumph  ?  That  he  does 
so  is  undeniable,  for  the  spirit  and  tone  of  the  poem 
here  become  positively  exultant. 

We  may  reply  that  the  writer  appears  as  the  champion 
of  the  Divine  cause.  No  attack  on  God's  supremacy 
is  to  be  permitted.  Nothing  of  the  kind,  however, 
has  been  suggested.  The  writer  is  pursuing  another 
aim,  for  he  is  anxious  to  still  the  murmurs  of  dis- 
content. But  how  can  the  thought  of  the  supremacy 
of  God  have  that  effect  ?  One  would  have  supposed 
the  ascription  to  God  of  the  trouble  complained  of 
would  deepen  the  sense  of  distress  and  turn  the  com- 
plaint against  Him.  Yet  it  is  just  here  that  the  elegist 
sees  the  unreasonableness  of  a  complaining  spirit. 

Of  course  the  uselessness  of  complaining,  or  rather 
the  uselessness  of  attempting  resistance,  may  be  im- 
pressed upon  us  in  this  way.  If  the  source  of  our 
trouble  is  nothing  less  than  the  Almighty  and  Supreme 
Ruler  of  all  things  it  is  stupid  to  dream  of  thwarting 
His  purposes.  If  a  man  will  run  his  head  like  a 
battering-ram  against  a  granite  cliff  the  most  he  can 
effect  by  his  madness  will  be  to  bespatter  the  rock 
with  his  brains.  It  may  be  necessary  to  warn  the 
rebel  against  Providence  of  this  danger  by  shewing 
him  that  what  he  mistakes  for  a  flimsy  veil  or  a 
shadowy  cloud  is  an  immovable  wall.  But  what  will 
he  find  to  exult  over  in  the  information  ?  The  hope- 
lessness of  resistance  is  no  better  than  the  consolation 
of  pessimism,  and  its  goal  is  despair.  Our  author,  on 
the  other  hand,  evidently  intends  to  be  reassuring. 

Now,  is  there  not  something  reassuring  in  the  thought 
that  evil  and  good  come  to  us  from  one  and  the  same 
source  ?      For,  consider  the   alternative.      Remember, 


iii.37-9-]  GOD  AND  EVIL  223 


the  evil  exists  as  surely  as  the  good.  The  elegist  does 
not  attempt  to  deny  this,  or  to  minimise  the  fact.  He 
never  calls  evil  good,  never  explains  it  away.  There 
it  stands  before  us,  in  all  its  ugly  actuality,  speculations 
concerning  its  origin  neither  aggravating  the  severity 
of  its  symptoms  nor  alleviating  them.  Whence,  then, 
did  this  perplexing  fact  arise  ?  If  we  postulate  some 
other  source  than  the  Divine  origin  of  good,  what  is 
it?  A  dreadful  mystery  here  yawns  at  our  feet.  It 
evil  came  from  an  equally  potent  origin  it  would  contend 
with  good  on  even  terms,  and  the  issue  would  always 
hang  in  the  balance.  There  could  be  nothing  reassuring 
in  that  tantalising  situation.  The  fate  of  the  universe 
would  be  always  quivering  in  uncertainty.  And  mean- 
while we  should  have  to  conclude,  that  the  most  awful 
conflict  with  absolutely  doubtful  issues  was  raging 
continually.  We  could  only  contemplate  the  idea  of 
this  vast  schism  with  terror  and  dismay.  But  now 
assuredly  there  is  something  calming  in  the  thought  of 
the  unity  of  the  power  that  distributes  our  fortunes ; 
for  this  means  that  a  man  is  in  no  danger  of  being 
tossed  like  a  shuttlecock  between  two  gigantic  rival 
forces.  There  must  be  a  singleness  of  aim  in  the  whole 
treatment  of  us  by  Providence,  since  Providence  is 
one.  Thus,  if  only  as  an  escape  from  an  inconceivably 
appalling  alternative,  this  doctrine  of  the  common  source 
of  good  and  evil  is  truly  reassuring. 

We  may  pursue  the  thought  further.  Since  good 
and  evil  spring  from  one  and  the  same  source,  they 
cannot  be  so  mutually  contradictory  as  we  have  been 
accustomed  to  esteem  them.  They  are  two  children  of 
a  common  parent ;  then  they  must  be  brothers.  But 
if  they  are  so  closely  related  a  certain  family  likeness 
may  be  traced  between  them.     This  does  not  destroy 


224  THE   LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


the  actuality  of  evil.  But  it  robs  it  of  its  worst  features. 
The  pain  may  be  as  acute  as  ever  in  spite  of  all  our 
philosophising.  But  the  significance  of  it  will  be  wholly 
changed.  We  can  now  no  longer  treat  it  as  an  accursed 
thing.  If  it  is  so  closely  related  to  good,  we  may  not 
have  far  to  go  in  order  to  discover  that  it  is  even 
working  for  good. 

Then  if  evil  and  good  come  from  the  same  source 
it  is  not  just  to  characterise  that  source  by  reference  to 
one  only  of  its  effluents.  We  must  not  take  a  rose- 
coloured  view  of  all  things,  and  relapse  into  idle  com- 
placency, as  we  might  do  if  we  confined  our  observation 
to  the  pleasant  facts  of  existence,  for  the  unpleasant 
facts — loss,  disappointment,  pain,  death — are  equally 
real,  and  are  equally  derived  from  the  very  highest 
Authority.  Neither  are  we  justified  in  denying  the 
existence  of  the  good  when  overwhelmed  with  a  sense 
of  the  evil  in  life.  At  worst  we  live  in  a  very  mixed 
world.  It  is  unscientific,  it  is  unjust  to  pick  out  the 
ills  of  life  and  gibbet  them  as  specimens  of  the  way 
things  are  going.  If  we  will  recite  the  first  part  of 
such  an  elegy  as  that  we  are  now  studying,  at  least 
let  us  have  the  honesty  to  read  on  to  the  second  part, 
where  the  surpassingly  lovely  vision  of  the  Divine 
compassion  so  much  more  than  counterbalances  the 
preceding  gloom.  Is  it  only  by  accident  that  the  poet 
says  "  evil  and  good,"  and  not,  as  we  usually  put  the 
phrase,  "  good  and  evil "  ?  Good  shall  have  the  last 
word.  Evil  exists ;  but  the  finality  and  crown  of 
existence  is  not  evil,  but  good. 

The  conception  of  the  primary  unity  of  causation 
which  the  Hebrew  poet  reaches  through  his  religion 
is  brought  home  to  us  to-day  with  a  vast  accumulation 
of  proof  by  the  discoveries  of  science.     The  uniformity 


i;i.  37-9-]  GOD  AND  EVIL  225 

of  law,  the  co-relation  of  forces,  the  analyses  of  the 
most  diverse  and  complex  organisms  into  their  common 
chemical  elements,  the  evidence  of  the  spectroscope  to 
the  existence  of  precisel}^  the  same  elements  among  the 
distant  stars,  as  well  as  the  more  minute  homologies  of 
nature  in  the  animal  and  vegetable  kingdoms,  are  all 
irrefutable  confirmations  of  this  great  truth.  Moreover, 
science  has  dem.onstrated  the  intimate  association  of 
what  we  cannot  but  regard  as  good  and  evil  in  the 
physical  universe.  Thus,  while  carbon  and  oxygen 
are  essential  elements  for  the  building  up  of  all  living 
things,  the  effect  of  perfectly  healthy  vital  functions 
working  upon  them  is  to  combine  them  into  carbonic 
acid,  which  is  a  most  deadly  poison  ;  but  then  this 
noxious  gas  becomes  the  food  of  plants,  from  which  the 
animal  life  in  turn  derives  its  nourishment.  Similarly 
microbes,  which  we  commonly  regard  as  the  agents 
of  corruption  and  disease,  are  found  to  be  not  only 
nature's  scavengers,  but  also  the  indispensable  ministers 
of  life,  when  clustering  round  the  roots  of  plants  in 
vast  crowds  they  convert  the  organic  matter  of  the  soil, 
such  as  manure,  into  those  inorganic  nitrates  which 
contain  nitrogen  in  the  form  suitable  for  absorption  by 
vegetable  organisms.  The  mischief  wrought  by  germs, 
great  as  it  is,  is  infinitely  outweighed  by  the  necessary 
service  existences  of  this  kind  render  to  all  life  by 
preparing  some  of  its  indispensable  conditions.  The 
inevitable  conclusion  to  be  drawn  from  facts  such 
as  these  is  that  health  and  disease,  and  life  and 
death,  interact,  are  inextricably  blended  together,  and 
mutually  transformable — what  we  call  disease  and 
death  in  one  place  being  necessary  for  life  and  health 
in  another.  The  more  clearly  we  understand  the  pro- 
cesses  of  nature  the   more   evident   is  the  fact  of  her 

15 


226  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

unity,  and  therefore  the  more  impossible  is  it  for  us 
to  think  of  her  objectionable  characteristics  as  foreign 
to  her  being — alien  immigrants  from  another  sphere. 
Physical  evil  itself  looks  less  dreadful  when  it  is  seen 
to  take  its  place  as  an  integral  part  of  the  complicated 
movement  of  the  whole  system  of  the  universe. 

But  the  chief  reason  for  regarding  the  prospect  with 
more  than  satisfaction  has  yet  to  be  stated.  It  is 
derived  from  the  character  of  Him  to  whom  both  the 
evil  and  the  good  are  attributed.  We  can  go  beyond 
the  assertion  that  these  contrarieties  spring  from  one 
common  origin  to  the  great  truth  that  this  origin  is  to 
be  found  in  God.  All  that  we  know  of  our  Father  in 
heaven  comes  to  our  aid  in  reflecting  upon  the  character 
of  the  actions  thus  attributed  to  Him.  The  account  of 
God's  goodness  that  immediately  precedes  this  ascription 
of  the  two  extreme  experiences  of  life  to  Him  would  be 
in  the  mind  of  the  writer,  and  it  should  be  in  the  mind 
of  the  reader  also.  The  poet  has  just  been  dwelling 
very  emphatically  on  the  indubitable  justice  of  God. 
When,  therefore,  he  reminds  us  that  both  evil  and 
good  come  from  the  Divine  Being,  it  is  as  though  he 
said  that  they  both  originated  in  justice.  A  little 
earlier  he  was  expressing  the  most  fervent  appreciation 
of  the  mercy  and  compassion  of  God.  Then  these 
gracious  attributes  should  be  in  our  thoughts  while  we 
hear  that  the  mixed  experiences  of  life  are  to  be  traced 
back  to  Him  of  whom  so  cheering  a  view  can  be 
taken. 

We  know  the  love  of  God  much  more  fully  since  it 
has  been  revealed  to  us  in  Jesus  Christ.  Therefore 
we  have  a  much  better  reason  for  building  our  faith 
and  hope  on  the  fact  of  the  universal  Divine  origin  of 
events.     In  itself  the  evil  exists  all  the  same  whether 


iii.37-90  GOD  AND  EVIL  227 

we  can  trace  its  cause  or  not,  and  the  discovery  of  the 
cause  in  no  way  aggravates  it.  But  this  discovery 
may  lead  us  to  take  a  new  view  of  its  issues.  If  it 
comes  from  One  who  is  as  just  and  merciful  as  He  is 
mighty  we  may  certainly  conclude  that  it  will  lead  to 
the  most  blessed  results.  Considered  in  the  light  of 
the  assured  character  of  its  purpose,  the  evil  itself  must 
assume  a  totally  different  character.  The  child  who 
receives  a  distasteful  draught  from  the  hand  of  the 
kindest  of  parents  knows  that  it  cannot  be  a  cup  of 
poison,  and  has  good  reason  for  believing  it  to  be  a 
necessary  medicine. 

The  last  verse  of  the  triplet  startles  the  reader  with 
an  unexpected  thought.  The  considerations  already 
adduced  are  all  meant  to  check  any  complaint  against 
the  course  of  Providence.  Now  the  poet  appends  a 
final  argument,  which  is  all  the  more  forcible  for  not 
being  stated  as  an  argument.  At  the  very  end  of  the 
passage,  when  we  are  only  expecting  the  language  to 
sink  into  a  quiet  conclusion,  a  new  idea  springs  out 
upon  us,  like  a  tiger  from  its  lair.  This  trouble  about 
which  a  man  is  so  ready  to  complain,  as  though  it  were 
some  unaccountable  piece  of  injustice,  is  simply  the 
punishment  of  his  sin  1  Like  the  other  ideas  of  the 
passage,  the  notion  is  not  tentatively  argued ;  it  is 
boldly  taken  for  granted.  Once  again  we  see  that 
there  is  no  suspicion  in  the  mind  of  the  elegist  of  the 
perplexing  problem  that  gives  its  theme  to  the  Book  of 
Job.  But  do  we  not  sometimes  press  that  problem  too 
far  ?  Can  it  be  denied  that,  to  a  large  extent,  suffering 
is  the  direct  consequence  and  the  natural  punishment 
of  sin  ?  Are  we  not  often  burnt  for  the  simple  reason 
that  we  have  been  playing  with  fire  ?  At  all  events, 
the  whole  course  of  previous  prophecy  went  to  shew 


-2S  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

that  the  national  sins  of  Israel  must  be  followed  by 
come  dreadful  disasters ;  and  when  the  war-cloud  was 
Covering  on  the  horizon  Jeremiah  saw  in  it  the  herald 
of  approaching  doom.  Then  the  thunderbolt  fell ;  and 
the  wreck  it  caused  became  the  topic  of  this  Book  of 
Lamentations.  After  such  a  preparation,  what  was 
more  natural,  and  reasonable,  and  even  inevitable,  than 
tliat  the  elegist  should  calmly  assume  that  the  trouble 
complained  of  was  no  more  than  was  due  to  the  afQicted 
people  ?  This  is  clear  enough  when  we  think  of  the 
ration  as  a  whole.  It  is  not  so  obvious  when  we  turn 
cur  attention  to  individual  cases ;  but  the  bewildering 
problem  of  the  sufferings  of  innocent  children,  which 
constitutes  the  most  prominent  feature  in  the  poet's 
picture  of  the  miseries  of  the  Jews,  is  not  here 
revived. 

We  must  suppose  that  he  is  thinking  of  a  typical 
citizen  of  Jerusalem.  If  the  guilty  city  merited  severe 
punishment,  such  a  man  as  this  would  also  merit 
it ;  for  the  deserts  of  the  city  are  only  the  deserts 
of  her  citizens.  It  will  be  for  everybody  to  say  for 
hiinself  how  far  the  solution  of  the  mystery  of  his  own 
troubles  is  to  be  looked  for  in  this  direction.  A  humble 
conscience  will  not  be  eager  to  repudiate  the  possibility 
that  its  owner  has  not  been  punished  beyond  his 
deserts,  whatever  may  be  thought  of  other  people, 
innocent  children  in  particular.  There  is  one  word 
that  may  bring  out  this  aspect  of  the  question  with 
more  distinctness — the  word  "living."  The  poet  asks, 
''Wherefore  doth  a  living  man  complain  ?  "  Why  does 
lie  attach  this  attribute  to  the  subject  of  his  question  ? 
The  only  satisfactory  explanation  that  has  been  offered 
is  that  he  would  remind  us  that  while  the  sufferer  has 
his   life  preserved   to  liim  he   has  no   valid  ground  ot 


iii.37-9.]  GOD   AND  EVIL  229 


complaint.  He  has  not  been  overpaid ;  he  has  not 
even  been  paid  in  full ;  for  it  is  an  Old  Testament 
doctrine  which  the  New  Testament  repeats  when  it 
declares  that  "the  wages  of  sin  is  death." ^ 

'  Rom.  VI.  2;. 


CHAPTER   XV 

THE  RETURN 
iii.  40-42 

WHEN  prophets,  speaking  in  the  name  of  God, 
promised  the  exiles  a  restoration  to  their  land 
and  the  homes  of  their  fathers,  it  was  always  under- 
stood and  often  expressly  affirmed  that  this  reversal  of 
their  outward  fortunes  must  be  preceded  by  an  inner 
change,  a  return  to  God  in  penitent  submission.  Ex- 
pulsion from  Canaan  was  the  chastisement  of  apostasy 
from  God  ;  it  was  only  right  and  reasonable  that  the 
discipline  should  be  continued  as  long  as  the  sin  that 
necessitated  it  remained.  It  would  be  a  mistake, 
however,  to  relegate  the  treatment  of  this  deadly  sin 
to  a  secondary  place,  as  only  the  cause  of  a  more  serious 
trouble.  There  could  be  no  more  serious  trouble.  The 
greatest  evil  from  which  Israel  suffered  was  not  the 
Babylonian  exile ;  it  was  her  self-inflicted  banishment 
from  God.  The  greatest  blessing  to  be  sought  for  her 
was  not  liberty  to  return  to  the  hills  and  cities  of 
Palestine  ;  it  was  permission  and  power  to  come  back 
to  God,  It  takes  us  long  to  learn  that  sin  is  worse 
than  punishment,  and  that  to  be  brought  home  to  our 
Father  in  heaven  is  a  more  desirable  good  than  any 
earthly  recovery  of  prosperity.  But  the  soul  that  can 
.say  with  the  elegist,  "  The  Lord  is  my  portion,"  has 
230 


iii.40-42.]  THE  RETURN  231 

reached  the  vantage  ground  from  which  the  best  things 
can  be  seen  in  their  true  proportions  ;  and  to  such  a 
soul  no  advent  of  temporal  prosperity  can  compare 
with  the  gaining  of  its  one  prized  possession.  In  the 
triplet  of  verses  that  follows  the  pointed  phrase  which 
rebukes  complaint  for  suffering  by  attributing  it  to  sin 
the  poet  conducts  us  to  those  high  regions  where  the 
more  spiritual  truth  concerning  these  matters  can  be 
appreciated. 

The  form  of  the  language  here  passes  into  the  plural. 
Already  we  have  been  made  to  feel  that  the  man  who 
has  seen  affliction  is  a  representative  sufferer,  although 
he  is  describing  his  own  personal  distresses.  The 
immediately  preceding  clause  seems  to  point  to  the 
sinful  Israelite  generally,  in  its  vague  reference  to  a 
**  living  man."  ^  Now  there  is  a  transition  in  the  move- 
ment of  the  elegy,  and  the  solitary  voice  gives  place  to 
a  chorus,  the  Jews  as  a  body  appearing  before  God 
to  pour  out  their  confessions  in  common.  According 
to  his  usual  method  the  elegist  makes  the  transition 
quite  abruptly,  without  any  explanatory  preparation. 
The  style  resembles  that  of  an  oratorio,  in  which  solo 
and  chorus  alternate  with  close  sequence.  In  the 
present  instance  the  effect  is  not  that  of  dramatic 
variety,  because  we  feel  the  vital  sympathy  that  the 
poet  cherishes  for  his  people,  so  that  their  experience 
is  as  his  experience.  It  is  a  faint  shadow  of  the 
condition  of  the  great  Sin-bearer,  of  whom  it  could  be 
said,  "  In  all  their  affliction  He  was  afflicted." " 

Before  it  is  possible  to  return  to  God,  before  the 
desire  to  return  is  even  awakened,  a  much  less  inviting 
action    must    be    undertaken.     The    first    and  greatest 

'  iii.  39.  ^  Isa.  Ixiii.  9. 


232  THE  LAMENTATIONS   UE  JEREMIAH 

hindrance  to  reconciliation  with  our  Father  is  our 
failure  to  recognise  that  any  such  reconciliation  is 
necessary.  The  most  deadening  effect  of  sin  is  seen 
in  the  fact  that  it  prevents  the  sinner  from  perceiving 
that  he  is  at  enmity  with  God  at  all,  although  by  every- 
thing he  does  he  proclaims  his  rebellion.  The  Pharisee 
of  the  parable  cannot  be  justified,  cannot  really  approach 
God  at  all,  because  he  will  not  admit  that  he  needs  any 
justification,  or  is  guilty  of  any  conduct  that  separates 
him  from  God.  Just  as  the  most  hopeless  state  of  ignor- 
ance is  that  in  which  there  is  a  serene  unconsciousness 
of  any  deficiency  of  knowledge,  so  the  most  abandoned 
condition  of  guilt  is  the  inabilit}^  to  perceive  the  very 
existence  of  guilt.  The  sick  man  Vv'ho  ignores  his 
disease  will  not  resort  to  a  physician  for  the  cure  of  it. 
If  the  soul's  quarrel  with  her  Lord  is  ever  to  be  ended 
it  must  be  discovered.  Therefore  the  first  step  will  be 
in  the  direction  of  self-examination. 

We  are  led  to  look  in  this  direction  by  the  startling 
thought  with  which  the  previous  triplet  closes.  If  the 
calamities  bewailed  are  the  chastisements  of  sin  it  is 
necessary  for  this  sin  to  be  sought  out.  The  language 
of  the  elegist  suggests  that  we  are  not  av;are  of  the 
nature  of  our  own  conduct,  and  that  it  is  only 
by  some  serious  effort  that  we  can  make  ourselves 
acquainted  with  it,  for  this  is  what  he  implies  when  he 
represents  the  distressed  people  resolving  to  "search 
and  try  "  their  ways.  Easy  as  it  may  seem  in  words, 
experience  proves  that  nothing  is  more  difficult  in 
practice  than  to  fulfil  the  precept  of  the  philosopher, 
"  Know  thyself"  The  externalism  in  which  most  of 
our  lives  are  spent  makes  the  effort  to  look  within 
a  painful  contradiction  of  habit.  When  it  is  attempted 
pi'ide    and   prejudice   iace   the  inquirer,  and  too  often 


iii.40N2.]  THE  RETURN 


quite  hide  the  true  self  from  view.  If  the  pursuit  is 
pushed  on  in  spite  of  these  hindrances  the  result  may 
prove  to  be  a  sad  surprise.  Sometimes  we  see  our- 
selves unexpectedly  revealed,  and  then  the  sight  of  so 
great  a  novelty  amazes  us.  The  photographer's  proof 
of  a  portrait  dissatisfies  the  subject,  not  because  it 
is  a  bad  likeness,  but  rather  because  it  is  too  faith- 
ful to  be  pleasing.  A  wonderful  picture  of  Rossetti's 
represents  a  young  couple  who  are  suddenly  con- 
fronted in  a  lonely  forest  by  the  apparition  of  their 
two  selves  as  simply  petrified  with  terror  at  the 
appalling  spectacle. 

Even  when  the  effort  to  acquire  self-knowledge  is 
strenuous  and  persevering,  and  accompanied  by  an 
honest  resolution  to  accept  the  results,  however  un- 
welcome they  may  be,  it  often  fails  for  lack  of  a 
standard  of  judgment.  We  compare  ourselves  with 
ourselves — our  present  with  our  past,  or  at  best 
our  actual  life  with  our  ideals.  But  this  is  a  most 
illusory  process,  and  its  limits  are  too  narrow.  Or  we 
compare  ourselves  with  our  neighbours — a  possible 
advance,  but  still  a  most  unsatisfactory  method  ;  for  we 
know  so  little  of  them,  all  of  us  dwelling  more  or  less 
like  stars  apart,  and  none  of  us  able  to  sound  the 
abysmal  depths  of  another's  personality.  Even  if  we 
could  fi.x  this  standard  it  too  would  be  very  illusor}', 
because  those  people  with  whom  we  are  making  the 
comparison,  quite  as  much  as  we  ourselves,  may  be 
astra}',  just  as  a  whole  planetary  system,  though  per- 
fectly balanced  in  the  mutual  relations  of  its  own  con- 
stituent worlds,  may  yet  be  out  of  its  orbit,  and  rushing 
on  all  together  towards  some  awful  common  destruction. 

A  more  trustv/orthy  standard  may  be  found  in  the 
heart-searching  words  of  Scripture,  which  prove  to  be 


234  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


as  much  a  revelation  of  man  to  himself  as  one  of  God 
to  man.  This  Divine  test  reaches  its  perfection  in  the 
historical  presentation  of  our  Lord.  We  discover  our 
actual  characters  most  effectually  when  we  compare 
our  conduct  with  the  conduct  of  Jesus  Christ.  As  the 
Light  of  the  world,  He  leads  the  world  to  see  itself 
He  is  the  great  touchstone  of  character.  During  His 
earthly  life  hypocrisy  was  detected  by  His  searching 
glance  ;  but  that  was  not  admitted  by  the  hypocrite. 
It  is  when  He  comes  to  us  spiritually  that  His  promise 
is  fulfilled,  and  the  Comforter  convinces  of  sin  as  well 
as  of  righteousness  and  judgment.  Perhaps  it  is  not 
so  eminently  desirable  as  Burns  would  have  us  believe, 
that  we  should  see  ourselves  as  others  see  us ;  but  it 
is  supremely  important  to  behold  ourselves  in  the  pure, 
searching  light  of  the  Spirit  of  Christ. 

We  may  be  reminded,  on  the  other  hand,  that  too 
much  introspection  is  not  wholesome,  that  it  begets 
morbid  ways  of  thought,  paralyses  the  energies,  and 
degenerates  into  insipid  sentimentality.  No  doubt  it 
is  best  that  the  general  tendency  of  the  mind  should 
be  towards  the  active  duties  of  life.  But  to  admit  this 
is  not  to  deny  that  there  may  be  occasions  when  the 
most  ruthless  self-examination  becomes  a  duty  of  first 
importance.  A  season  of  severe  chastisement,  such  as 
that  to  which  the  Book  of  Lamentations  refers,  is  one 
that  calls  most  distinctly  for  the  exercise  of  this  rare 
duty.  We  cannot  make  our  daily  meal  of  drugs ;  but 
drugs  may  be  most  necessary  in  sickness.  Possibly 
if  we  were  in  a  state  of  perfectly  sound  spiritual  health 
it  might  be  well  for  us  never  to  spare  a  thought  for 
ourselves  from  our  complete  absorption  with  the  happy 
duties  of  a  full  and  busy  life.  But  since  we  are  far 
from    being   thus   healthy,    since   we   err  and  fail   and 


ii.40-42.]  THE  RETURN  235 


sin,  time  devoted  to  the  discovery  of  our  faults  may  be 
exceedingly  well  spent. 

Then  while  a  certain  kind  of  self-study  is  always 
mischievous — the  sickly  habit  of  brooding  over  one's 
feelings,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  the  elegist  does  not 
recommend  this.  His  language  points  in  quite  another 
direction.  It  is  not  emotion  but  action  that  he  is  con- 
cerned with.  The  searching  is  to  be  into  our  "  ways," 
the  course  of  our  conduct.  There  is  an  objectivity  in 
this  inquiry,  though  it  is  turned  inward,  that  contrasts 
strongly  with  the  investigation  of  shadowy  sentiments. 
Conduct,  too,  is  the  one  ground  of  the  judgment  of  God. 
Therefore  the  point  of  supreme  importance  to  ourselves 
is  to  determine  whether  conduct  is  right  or  wrong. 
With  this  branch  of  self-examination  we  are  not  in  so 
much  danger  of  falling  into  complete  delusions  as  when 
we  are  considering  less  tangible  questions.  Thus  this 
is  at  once  the  most  wholesome,  the  most  necessary, 
and  the  most  practicable  process  of  introspection. 

The  particular  form  of  conduct  here  referred  to 
should  be  noted.  The  word  "  ways  "  suggests  habit 
and  continuity.  These  are  more  characteristic  than 
isolated  deeds — short  spasms  of  virtue  or  sudden  falls 
before  temptation.  The  final  judgment  will  be  accord- 
ing to  the  life,  not  its  exceptional  episodes.  A  man 
lives  his  habits.  He  may  be  capable  of  better  things, 
he  may  be  liable  to  worse ;  but  he  is  what  he  does 
habitually.  The  world  will  applaud  him  for  some  out- 
burst of  heroism  in  which  he  rises  for  the  moment  above 
the  sordid  level  of  his  every-day  life,  or  execrate  him 
for  his  shameful  moment  of  self-forgetfulness ;  and  the 
world  will  have  this  amount  of  justice  in  its  action,  that 
the  capacity  for  the  occasional  is  itself  a  permanent  attri- 
bute, although  the  opportunity  for  the  active  working 


236  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

of  the  latent  good  or  evil  is  rare.  The  startling  out- 
burst may  be  a  revelation  of  old  but  hitherto  hidden 
"ways."  It  must  be  so  to  some  extent;  for  no  man 
wholly  belies  his  own  nature  unless  he  is  mad — beside 
himself,  as  we  say.  Still  it  may  not  be  so  entirely,  or 
even  chiefly ;  the  surprised  self  may  not  be  the  normal 
self,  often  is  not.  Meanwhile  our  main  business  in 
self-examination  is  to  trace  the  course  of  the  unromantic 
beaten  track,  the  long  road  on  which  we  travel  from 
morning  to  evening  through  the  whole  day  of  life. 

The  result  of  this  search  into  the  character  of  their 
ways  on  the  part  of  the  people  is  that  it  is  found  to 
be  necessary  to  forsake  them  forthwith ;  for  the  next 
idea  is  in  the  form  of  a  resolution  to  turn  out  of  them, 
nay,  to  turn  back,  retracing  the  footsteps  that  have 
gone  astray,  in  order  to  come  to  God  again.  These 
ways  are  discovered,  then,  to  be  bad — vicious  in  them- 
selves, and  wrong  in  their  direction.  They  run  down- 
hill, away  from  the  home  of  the  soul,  and  towards  the 
abodes  of  everlasting  darkness.  When  this  fact  is 
perceived  it  becomes  apparent  that  some  complete 
change  must  be  made.  This  is  a  case  of  ending  our 
old  ways,  not  mending  them.  Good  paths  may  be 
susceptible  of  improvement.  The  path  of  the  just 
should  "  shine  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day." 
But  here  things  are  too  hopelessly  bad  for  any  attempt 
at  amelioration.  No  engineering  skill,  will  ever  trans- 
form the  path  that  points  straight  to  perdition  into  one 
that  conducts  us  up  to  the  heights  of  heaven.  The 
only  chance  of  coming  to  walk  in  the  right  way  is 
to  forsake  the  wrong  way  altogether,  and  make  an 
entirely  new  start.  Here,  then,  we  have  the  Christian 
doctrine  of  conversion — a  doctrine  which  always  appears 
extravagant   to    people   who   take   superficial   views    of 


40-42.1  THE    RETURN  237 


sin,  but  one  that  will  be  appreciated  just  in  proportion 
to  the  depth  and  seriousness  of  our  ideas  of  its  guilt. 
Nothing  contributes  more  to  unreality  in  religion  than 
strong  language  on  the  nature  of  repentance  apart 
from  a  corresponding  consciousness  of  the  tremend- 
ous need  of  a  most  radical  change.  This  deplorable 
mischief  must  be  brought  about  when  indiscriminate 
exhortations  to  the  extreme  practice  of  penitence  are 
addressed  to  mixed  congregations.  It  cannot  be  right 
to  press  the  necessity  of  conversion  upon  young  children 
and  the  carefully  sheltered  and  lovingly  trained  youth 
of  Christian  homes  in  the  language  that  applies  to  their 
unhappy  brothers  and  sisters  who  have  already  made 
shipwreck  of  life.  This  statement  is  liable  to  mis- 
apprehension ;  doubtless  to  some  readers  it  will  savour 
of  the  light  views  of  sin  deprecated  above,  and  point 
to  the  excuses  of  the  Pharisee.  Nevertheless  it  must 
be  considered  if  we  would  avoid  the  characteristic 
sin  of  the  Pharisee,  hypocrisy.  It  is  unreasonable  to 
suppose  that  the  necessity  of  a  complete  conversion 
can  be  felt  by  the  young  and  comparatively  innocent 
as  it  should  be  felt  by  abandoned  profligates,  and  the 
attempt  of  the  preacher  to  force  it  on  their  relatively 
pure  consciences  is  a  direct  incentive  to  cant.  The 
fifty-first  Psalm  is  the  confession  of  his  crime  by  a 
murderer ;  Augustine's  Confessions  are  the  outpourings 
of  a  man  who  feels  that  he  has  been  dragging  his 
earlier  life  through  the  mire ;  Bunyan's  Grace  Abound- 
ing reveals  the  memories  of  a  rough  soldier's  shame 
and  folly.  No  good  can  come  of  the  unthinking  appli- 
cation of  such  utterances  to  persons  whose  history 
and  character  are  entirely  different  from,  those  of  the 
authors. 

On  the  other  hand,   there   are   one   or   two   further 


238  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

considerations  which  should  be  borne  in  mind.  Thus 
it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  greatest  sinner  is 
not  necessarily  the  man  whose  guilt  is  most  glaringly 
apparent ;  nor  that  sins  of  the  heart  count  with  God 
as  equivalent  to  obviously  wicked  deeds  committed  in 
the  full  light  of  day ;  nor  that  guilt  cannot  be  estimated 
absolutely,  by  the  bare  evil  done,  without  regard  to 
the  opportunities,  privileges,  and  temptations  of  the 
offender.  Then,  the  more  we  meditate  upon  the  true 
nature  of  sin,  the  more  deeply  must  we  be  impressed 
with  its  essential  evil  even  when  it  is  developed  only 
slightly  in  comparison  with  the  hideous  crimes  and 
vices  that  blacken  the  pages  of  history — as,  for  example, 
in  the  careers  of  a  Nero  or  a  Caesar  Borgia.  The 
sensitive  ponscience  does  not  only  feel  the  exact  guilt 
of  its  individual  offences,  but  also,  and  much  more, 
"  the  exceeding  sinfulness  of  sin."  When  we  consider 
their  times  and  the  state  of  the  society  in  which  they 
lived,  we  must  feel  that  neither  Augustine  nor  Bunyan 
had  been  so  wicked  as  the  intensity  of  the  language  of 
penitence  they  both  employed  might  lead  us  to  suppose. 
It  is  quite  foreign  to  the  nature  of  heartfelt  repentance 
to  measure  degrees  of  guilt.  In  the  depth  of  its  shame 
and  humiliation  no  language  of  contrition  seems  to  be 
too  strong  to  give  it  adequate  expression.  But  this 
must  be  entirely  spontaneous ;  it  is  most  unwise  to 
impose  it  from  without  in  the  form  of  an  indiscriminate 
appeal  to  abject  penitence. 

Then  it  is  also  to  be  observed  that  while  the  funda- 
mental change  described  in  the  New  Testament  as  a 
new  birth  cannot  well  be  regarded  as  a  thing  of  repeated 
occurrence,  we  may  have  occasion  for  many  conversions. 
Every  time  we  turn  into  the  wrong  path  we  put  our- 
selves under  the  necessity  of  turning  back  if  ever  we 


.]  THE  RETURN  239 


would  walk  in  the  right  path  again.  What  is  that  but 
conversion  ?  It  is  a  pity  that  we  should  be  hampered 
by  the  technicality  of  a  term.  This  may  lead  to  another 
kind  of  error — the  error  of  supposing  that  if  we  are 
once  converted  we  are  converted  for  life,  that  we  have 
crossed  our  Rubicon,  and  cannot  recross  it.  Thus 
while  the  necessity  of  a  primary  conversion  may  be 
exaggerated  in  addresses  to  the  young,  the  greater 
need  of  subsequent  conversions  may  be  neglected  in 
the  thoughts  of  adults.  The  **  converted  "  person  who 
relies  on  the  one  act  of  his  past  experience  to  serve  as 
a  talisman  for  all  future  time  is  deluding  himself  in  a 
most  dangerous  manner.  Can  it  be  asserted  that  Peter 
had  not  been  "converted,"  in  the  technical  sense,  when 
he  fell  through  undue  self-confidence,  and  denied  his 
Master  with  "oaths  and  curses?" 

Again — a  very  significant  fact — the  return  is  described 
in  positive  language.  It  is  a  coming  back  to  God,  not 
merely  a  departure  from  the  old  v/ay  of  sin.  The 
initial  impulse  towards  a  better  life  springs  more 
readily  from  the  attraction  of  a  new  hope  than  from  the 
repulsion  of  a  loathed  evil.  The  hopeful  repentance  is 
exhilarating,  while  that  which  is  only  born  of  the 
disgust  and  horror  of  sin  is  dismally  depressing.  Lurid 
pictures  of  evil  rarely  beget  penitence.  The  Newgate 
Calendar  is  not  to  be  credited  with  the  reformation  of 
criminals.  Even  Dante's  Inferno  is  no  gospel.  In 
prosecuting  his  mission  as  the  prophet  of  repentance 
John  the  Baptist  was  not  content  to  declare  that  the 
axe  was  laid  at  the  root  of  the  tree;  the  pith  of  his 
exhortation  was  found  in  the  glad  tidings  that  "  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand."  St.  Paul  shows  that 
it  is  the  goodness  of  God  that  leads  us  to  repentance. 
Besides,  the  repentance  that  is  induced  by  this  means 


THE   LAMENTATIONS   OE  JEREMIAH 


is  of  the  best  character.  It  escapes  the  craven  slavish- 
ness  of  fear  ;  it  is  not  a  merely  selfish  shrinking  from  the 
lash ;  it  is  inspired  by  the  pure  love  of  a  worthy  end. 
Only  remorse  lingers  in  the  dark  region  of  regrets  for 
the  past.  Genuine  repentance  al\va3's  turns  a  hopeful 
look  tow^ards  a  better  future.  It  is  of  little  use  to 
exorcise  the  spirit  of  evil  if  the  house  is  not  to  be 
tenanted  by  the  spirit  of  good.  Thus  tlie  end  and 
purpose  of  repentance  is  to  be  reunited  to  God. 

Following  up  his  general  exhortation  to  return  to 
God,  the  elegist  adds  a  particular  one,  in  which  the 
process  of  the  new  movement  is  described.  It  takes 
the  form  of  a  prayer  from  the  heart.  The  resolution  is 
to  lift  up  the  heart  with  the  hands.  The  erect  posture, 
with  the  hands  stretched  out  to  heaven,  which  was  the 
Hebrew  attitude  in  prayer,  had  often  been  assumed  in 
meaningless  acts  of  formal  worship  before  there  was 
any  real  approach  to  God  or  any  true  penitence.  Now 
the  repentance  will  be  manifested  by  the  reality  of  the 
prayer.  Let  the  heart  also  be  lifted  up.  The  true 
approach  to  God  is  an  act  of  the  inner  life,  to  which 
in  its  entirety — thought,  affection,  and  v/ill — the  Jewish 
metaphor  of  the  heart  points. 

Lastly,  the  poet  furnishes  the  returning  penitents 
with  the  very  language  of  the  heart's  prayer,  which  is 
primarily  confession.  The  doleful  fact  that  God  has 
not  pardoned  His  people  is  directly  stated,  but  not  in 
the  first  place.  This  statement  is  preceded  by  a  clear 
and  unreserved  confession  of  sin.  Repentance  must 
be  followed  by  confession.  It  is  not  a  private  matter 
concerning  the  offender  alone.  Since  the  offence  was 
directed  against  another,  the  amendment  must  begin 
with  a  humble  admission  of  the  wrong  that  has  been 
done.     Thus,  immediately  the  prodigal  son  is  met  by 


iii.  40-42.]  THE  RETURN 


his  father  he  sobs  out  his  confession  ;  ^  and  St.  John 
assigns  confession  as  an  essential  preliminary  to  for- 
giveness, saying :  "If  we  confess  our  sins,  He  is 
faithful  and  righteous  to  forgive  us  our  sins,  and  to 
cleanse  us  from  all  unrighteousness."  ^ 

'  Luke  XV.  21.  '•'  I  John  i.  9. 


16 


CHAPTER   XVI 

GRIEVING  BEFORE   GOD 
iii-  43-54 

AS  might  have  been  expected,  the  mourning  patriot 
quickly  forsakes  the  patch  of  sunshine  which  hghts 
up  a  few  verses  of  this  elegy.  But  the  vision  of  it 
has  not  come  in  vain ;  for  it  leaves  gracious  effects  to 
tone  the  gloomy  ideas  upon  which  the  meditations  of  the 
poet  now  return  like  birds  of  the  night  hastening  back 
to  their  darksome  haunts.  In  the  first  place,  his  grief 
is  no  longer  solitary.  It  is  enlarged  in  its  sympathies 
so  as  to  take  in  the  sorrows  of  others.  Purely  selfish 
trouble  tends  to  become  a  mean  and  sordid  thing.  If 
we  are  not  yet  freed  from  our  own  pain  some  element 
of  a  nobler  nature  will  be  imported  into  it  when  we  can 
find  room  for  the  larger  thoughts  that  the  contemplation 
of  the  distresses  of  others  arouses.  But  a  greater 
change  than  this  has  taken  place.  The  "  man  who 
hath  seen  affliction "  now  feels  himself  to  be  in  the 
presence  of  God.  Speaking  for  others  as  well  as  for 
himself  he  pours  out  his  lamentations  before  God.  In 
the  first  part  of  the  elegy  he  had  only  mentioned  the 
Divine  name  as  that  of  his  great  Antagonist ;  now  it 
is  the  name  of  his  close  Confidant. 

Then  the  elegist  is  here  giving  voice  to  the  people's 
penitent    confession    and    prayer       This    is   another 
242 


iii.  43-54]  GRIEVING  BEFORE  GOD  243 

feature  of  the  changed  situation.  An  unquahfied 
admission  of  the  truth  that  the  sufferings  of  Israel  are 
just  the  merited  punishment  of  the  people's  sin  has 
come  between  the  complaints  with  which  the  poem 
opens,  and  the  renewed  expressions  of  grief 

Still,  when  all  due  allowance  is  made  for  these  im- 
provements, the  renewed  outburst  of  grief  is  sufficiently 
dismal.  The  people  are  supposed  to  represent  them- 
selves as  being  hunted  down  like  helpless  fugitives,  and 
slain  without  pity  by  God,  who  has  wrapped  Himself 
in  a  mantle  of  anger,  which  is  as  a  cloud  impenetrable  to 
the  prayers  of  His  miserable  victims.^  This  description 
of  their  helpless  state  follows  immediately  after  an  out- 
pouring of  prayer.  It  would  seem,  therefore,  that  the 
poet  conceived  that  this  particular  utterance  was 
hindered  from  reaching  the  ear  of  God.  Now  in  many 
cases  it  may  be  that  a  feeling  such  as  is  here  expressed 
is  purely  subjective  and  imaginary.  The  soul's  cry 
of  agony  passes  out  into  the  night,  and  dies  away  into 
silence,  without  eliciting  a  whisper  of  response.  Yet 
it  is  not  necessary  to  conclude  that  the  cry  is  not 
heard.  The  closest  attention  may  be  the  most  silent. 
But,  it  may  be  objected,  this  possibility  only  aggravates 
the  evil ;  for  it  is  better  not  to  hear  at  all  than  to  hear 
and  not  to  heed.  Will  any  one  attribute  such  stony 
indifference  to  God  ?  God  may  attend,  and  yet  He 
may  not  speak  to  us — speech  not  being  the  usual 
form  of  Divine  response.  He  may  be  helping  us 
most  effectually  in  silence,  unperceived  by  us,  at  the 
very  moment  when  we  imagine  that  He  has  com- 
pletely deserted  us.  If  we  were  more  keenly  alive  to 
the  signs  of  His  coming  we  should   be  less  hasty  to 


iii.  44. 


THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


despair  at  the  failure  of  our  prayers.  The  priests  of 
Baal  may  scream,  "  O  Baal,  hear  us  !  "  from  morning 
to  night  till  their  phrensy  sinks  into  despair  ;  but  that 
is  no  reason  why  men  and  women  who  worship  a 
spiritual  God  should  come  to  the  conclusion  that  their 
inability  to  wrest  a  sign  from  Heaven  is  itself  a  sign 
of  desertion  by  Him  to  whom  they  call.  The  oracle 
may  be  dumb ;  but  the  God  whom  we  worship  is  not 
limited  to  the  utterance  of  prophetic  voices  for  the 
expression  of  His  will.  He  hears,  even  if  in  silence ; 
and,  in  truth,  He  also  answers,  though  we  are  too  deaf 
in  our  unbelief  to  discern  the  still  small  voice  of  His 
^J^M-it. 

BuL  _,^  ^^(^  g^y  tii^t  the  idea  of  the  Divine  disregard 
of  prayer   is  ^j^ays  and    only  imaginary?     Are    the 
clouds  that  com-,  between  us  and  God  invariably  earth- 
born  ?     Does    He' never   really   wrap   Himself  in   the 
garment  of  wrath  ?     Surely  we  dare  not  say  so  much. 
The  anger  of  God  i^  ^g  j-eal  as  His  love.     No  being 
can    be    perfectly    holy  ^nd   not    feel   a   righteous   in- 
dignation in  the  presence  ^f  c;in.     But  if  God  is  angry, 
and    v?hile    He    is    so,    Hue  cannot -L.  the.  same   time 
be   holding  friendly  inter|pcourse  with   the  people  who 
are    provoking    His    wratigh.      Then    the    Divine    anger 
must    be  as  a  thick,  impe-rvious   curtain   between   the 
prayers  of  the  sinful  and  :^the  gracious  hearing  of  God. 
The  universal  confession  o^of  the  need  of  an  atonement 
is  a  witness  to  the  percepti^bn  of  this  condition  by  man- 
kind.    Whether  we  are  deaiiling  with  the  crude  notions 
of   ancient  sacrifice,  or  witih    the    high   thoughts   that 
circle  about  Calvary,  the  samie  spiritual  instinct  presses 
for  recognition.     We  may  ti^-y  to  reason  it  down,  but 
it  persistently  reasserts  itself..)     Most  certainly  it  is  not 
the   teaching  of  Scripture  th(at    the  only  condition   of 


iii.43-S4-]  GRIEVING  BEFORE   GOD  245 

salvation  is  prayer.  The  Gospel  is  not  to  the  effect 
that  we  are  to  be  saved  by  our  own  petitions.  The 
penitent  is  taught  to  feel  that  without  Christ  and  the 
cross  his  prayers  are  of  no  avail  for  his  salvation. 
Even  if  they  knew  no  respite  still  they  would  never 
atone  for  sin.  Is  not  this  an  axiom  of  evangelical 
doctrine  ?  Then  the  prayers  that  are  offered  in  the 
old  unreconciled  condition  must  fall  back  on  the  head 
of  the  vain  petitioner  unable  to  penetrate  the  awful 
barrier  that  he  has  himself  caused  to  be  raised  between 
his  cries  and  the  heavens  where  God  dwells. 

Turning  from  the  contemplation  of  the  hopeless 
failure  of  prayer  the  lament  naturally  falls  into  an 
almost  despairing  wail  of  grief.  The  state  of  the  Jews 
is  painted  in  the  very  darkest  colours.  God  has  made 
them  as  no  better  than  the  refuse  people  cast  out  of 
their  houses,  or  the  very  sweepings  of  the  streets — not 
fit  even  to  be  trampled  under  foot  of  men.^  This  is 
their  position  among  the  nations.  The  poet  seems  to 
be  alluding  to  the  exceptional  severity  with  which  the 
obstinate  defenders  of  Jerusalem  had  been  treated  by 
their  exaspefftted  conquerors.  The  neighbouring  tribes 
had  been  compelled  to  succumb  beneath  the  devastating 
wave  of  the  Babylonian  invasion ;  but  since  none  of 
them  had  offered  so  stubborn  a  resistance  to  the  armies 
of  Nebuchadnezzar  none  of  them  had  been  punished 
by  so  severe  a  scourge  of  vengeance.  So  it  has  been 
repeatedly  with  the  unhappy  people  who  have  encoun- 
tered unparalled  persecutions  through  the  long  weary 
ages  of  their  melancholy  history.  In  the  days  of  Antio- 
chus  Epiphanes  the  Jews  were  the  most  insulted  and 
cruelly  outraged  victims  of  Syrian  tyranny.     When  their 


45- 


246  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

long  tragedy  reached  a  climax  at  the  final  siege  of  Jeru- 
salem by  Titus,  the  more  liberal-minded  Roman  govern- 
ment laid  on  them  harsh  punishments  of  exile,  slavery, 
torture,  and  death,  such  as  it  rarely  inflicted  on  a  fallen 
foe — for  with  statesmanlike  wisdom  the  Romans  pre- 
ferred, as  a  rule,  conciliation  to  extermination ;  but  in 
the  case  of  this  one  unhappy  city  of  Jerusalem  the 
almost  unique  fate  of  the  hated  and  dreaded  city  of 
Carthage  was  repeated.  So  it  was  in  the  Middle  Ages, 
as  Ivanhoe  vividly  shows ;  and  so  it  is  to-day  in  the 
East  of  Europe,  as  the  fierce  Juden-hetze  is  continually 
proving.  The  irony  of  history  is  nowhere  more  ap- 
parent than  in  the  fact  that  the  "  favoured "  people, 
the  "  chosen "  people  of  Jehovah,  should  have  been 
treated  so  continuously  as  "  the  offscouring  and  refuse 
in  the  midst  of  the  peoples."  As  privilege  and  re- 
sponsibility always  go  hand  in  hand,  so  also  do  blessing 
and  suffering — the  Jew  hated,  the  Church  persecuted, 
the  Christ  crucified.  We  cannot  say  that  this  paradox 
is  simply  " a  mysterious  dispensation  of  Providence;" 
because  in  the  case  of  Israel,  at  all  events  in  the  early 
ages,  the  unparalleled  misery  was  traced  to  the  abuse 
of  unparalleled  favour.  But  this  does  not  exhaust  the 
mystery,  for  in  the  most  striking  instances  innocence 
suffers.  We  can  have  no  satisfaction  in  our  view  of 
these  contradictions  till  we  see  the  glory  of  the  martyr's 
crown  and  the  even  higher  glory  of  the  triumph  of 
Christ  and  His  people  over  failure,  agony,  insult,  and 
death ;  but  just  in  proportion  as  we  are  able  to  lift  up 
the  eyes  of  faith  to  the  blessedness  of  the  unseen  world, 
we  shall  be  able  also  to  discover  that  even  here  and 
now  there  is  a  pain  that  is  better  than  pleasure,  and 
a  shame  that  is  truest  glory. 

These  truths,  however,  are  not  readily  perceived  at 


43-S4-]  GRIEVING  BEFORE   GOD  247 


the  time  of  endurance,  when  the  iron  is  entering  into 
the  soul.  The  elegist  feels  the  degradations  of  his 
people  most  keenly,  and  he  represents  them  complain- 
ing how  their  enemies  rage  at  them  as  with  open 
mouths — belching  forth  gross  insults,  shouting  curses, 
like  wild  beasts  ready  to  devour  their  hapless  victims.^ 
There  seems  to  be  nothing  in  store  for  them  but  the 
terrors  of  death,  the  pit  of  destruction.^ 

At  the  contemplation  of  this  extremity  of  hopeless 
misery  the  poet  drops  the  plural  number,  in  which 
he  has  been  personating  his  people,  as  abruptly  as  he 
assumed  it  a  few  verses  earlier,  and  bewails  the  dread 
calamities  in  his  own  person.^  Then,  in  truly  Jeremiah- 
like fashion,  he  describes  his  incessant  weeping  for  the 
woes  of  the  wretched  citizens  of  Jerusalem  and  the 
surrounding  villages.  The  reference  to  "the  daughters 
of  my  city  "  *  seems  to  be  best  explained  as  a  figurative 
expression  for  the  neighbouring  places,  all  of  which  it 
would  seem  had  shared  in  the  devastation  produced  by 
the  great  wave  of  conquest  which  had  overwhelmed  the 
capital.  But  the  previous  mention  of  "  the  daughter 
of  my  people,"  ^  followed  as  it  is  by  this  phrase  about 
"  the  daughters  of  my  city,"  strikes  a  deeper  note  of 
compassion.  These  places  contained  many  defenceless 
women,  the  indescribable  cruelty  of  whose  fate  when 
they  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  brutal  heathen  soldiery 
was  one  of  the  worst  features  of  the  whole  ghastly 
scene ;  and  the  wretchedness  of  the  once  proud  city 
and  its  dependencies  when  they  were  completely  over- 
thrown is  finely  represented  so  as  to  appeal  most 
effectually  to  our  sympathy  by  a  metaphor  that  pictures 
them  as   hapless"  maidens,  touching  us  like  Spenser's 

'  iii.  46.  ^  iii.  48  fi".  ^  iii.  48. 

^  iii.  47.  ■*  iii.  51. 


248  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 


piteous  picture  of  the  forlorn  Una,  deserted  in  the 
forest  and  left  a  prey  to  its  savage  denizens.  Like 
Una,  too,  the  daughters  in  this  metaphor  claim  the 
chivalry  which  our  English  poet  has  so  exquisitely 
portrayed  as  awakened  even  in  the  breast  of  a  wild 
animal.  The  woman  of  Europe  is  far  removed  from 
her  sister  in  the  East,  who  still  follows  the  ancient 
type  in  submitting  to  the  imputation  of  weakness  as  a 
claim  for  consideration.  But  this  is  because  Europe 
has  learnt  that  strength  of  character — in  which  woman 
can  be  at  least  the  equal  of  man — is  more  potent  in  a 
community  civilised  in  the  Christian  wa}'  than  strength 
of  muscle.  Where  the  more  brutal  forces  are  let  loose 
the  duties  of  chivalry  are  always  in  requisition.  Then 
it  is  apparent  that  deference  to  the  claims  of  women 
for  protection  produces  a  civilising  effect  in  softening 
the  roughness  of  men..  It  is  difficult  to  say  it  to-day 
in  the  teeth  of  the  just  claims  that  women  are  making, 
and  still  m.ore  difficult  in  face  of  what  women  are  now 
achieving,  in  spite  of  many  relics  of  barbarism  in  the 
form  of  unfair  restrictions,  but  yet  it  must  be  asserted 
that  the  feebleness  of  femininity — in  the  old-fashioned 
sense  of  the  word — pervades  these  poems,  and  is  their 
most  touching  characteristic,  so  that  much  of  the  pathos 
and  beauty  of  poetry  such  as  that  of  these  elegies  is 
to  be  traced  to  representations  of  woman  wronged  and 
suffering  and  calling  for  the  sympathy  of  all  beholders. 
The  poet  is  moved  to  tears — quite  unselfish  tears, 
tears  of  patriotic  grief,  tears  of  com.passion  for  help- 
less suffering.  Here  again  the  modern  Anglo-Saxon 
habit  makes  it  difficult  for  us  to  appreciate  his  conduct 
as  it  deserves.  We  think  it  a  dreadful  thing  for 
a  man  to  be  seen  weeping;  and  a  feeling  of  shame 
accompanies  such  an  outburst  of  unrestrained  distress. 


iii.  43-54-]  GRIEVING  BEFORE   GOD  249 


But  surely  there  are  holy  tears,  and  tears  which  it  is 
an  honour  for  any  one  to  be  capable  of  shedding.  If 
mere  callousness  is  the  explanation  of  dry  eyes  in  view 
of  sorrow,  there  can  be  no  credit  for  such  a  condition. 
This  is  not  the  restraint  of  tears.  Nothing  is  easier 
than  for  the  unfeeling  not  to  weep.  Nor  can  it  be 
maintained  that  it  is  always  necessary  to  restrain  the 
outward  expression  of  sympathy  in  accordance  with 
its  most  natural  impulses.  Our  Lord  was  strong  ;  yet 
we  could  never  wish  that  the  evangelist  had  not  had 
occasion  to  write  the  ever  memorable  sentence,  "  Jesus 
wept."  Sufferers  lose  much,  not  only  from  lack  of 
sympathy,  but  also  from  a  shy  concealment  of  the 
fellow-feeling  that  is  truly  experienced.  There  are 
seasons  of  keenest  agony,  when  to  weep  with  those 
who  weep  is  the  only  possible  expression  of  brotherly 
kindness ;  and  this  may  be  a  very  real  act  of  love, 
appreciably  alleviating  suffering.  A  little  courage  on 
the  part  of  Englishmen  in  daring  to  weep  would  knit 
the  ties  of  brotherhood  more  closely.  At  present  a 
chill  reserve  rather  than  any  actual  coldness  of  heart 
separates  people  who  might  be  much  more  helpful  to 
one  another  if  they  could  but  bring  themselves  to 
break  down  this  barrier. 

But  while  the  poet  is  thus  expressing  his  large 
patriotic  grief  he  cannot  forget  his  own  private  sorrows. 
They  are  all  parts  of  one  common  woe.  So  he  returns 
to  his  personal  experience,  and  adds  some  graphic 
details  that  enable  us  to  picture  him  in  the  midst  of  his 
misery.^  Though  he  had  never  provoked  the  enemy, 
he  was  chased  like  a  bird,  flung  into  a  dungeon, 
where  a  stone  was  hurled  down  upon  him,  and  where 

'  iii.  52  ff. 


250  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

the  water  was  lying  so  deep  that  he  was  completely 
submerged.  There  is  no  reason  to  question  that 
definite  statements  such  as  these  represent  the  exact 
experience  of  the  writer.  At  the  first  glance  they  call 
to  our  minds  the  persecutions  inflicted  on  Jeremiah  by 
his  own  people.  But  the  allusion  would  be  peculiarly 
inappropriate,  and  the  cases  do  not  quite  fit  together. 
The  poet  has  been  bewailing  the  sufferings  of  the  Jews 
at  the  hands  of  the  Chaldseans,  and  he  seems  to  identify 
his  own  troubles  in  the  closest  way  with  the  general 
flood  of  calamities  that  swept  over  his  nation.  It 
would  be  quite  out  of  place  for  him  to  insert  here  a 
reminder  of  earlier  troubles  which  his  own  people  had 
inflicted  upon  him.  Besides,  the  particulars  do  not 
exactly  agree  with  what  we  learn  of  the  prophet's  hard- 
ships from  his  own  pen.  The  dungeon  into  which  he 
was  flung  was  very  foul,  and  he  sank  in  the  mire,  but 
it  is  expressly  stated  that  there  was  no  water  in  it,  and 
there  is  no  mention  of  stoning.-^  There  were  many 
sufferers  in  that  dark  time  of  tumult  and  outrage  whose 
fate  was  as  hard  as  that  of  Jeremiah. 

A  graphic  picture  like  this  helps  us  to  imagine  the 
fearful  accompaniments  of  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem 
much  better  than  any  general  summary.  As  we  gaze 
at  this  one  scene  among  the  many  miseries  that  followed 
the  siege — the  poet  hunted  out  and  run  down,  his 
capture  and  conveyance  to  the  dungeon,  apparently 
without  a  shadow  of  a  trial,  the  danger  of  drowning  and 
the  misery  of  standing  in  the  water  that  had  gathered 
in  a  place  so  utterly  unfit  for  human  habitation,  the 
needless  additional  cruelty  of  the  stone-throwing — there 
rises  before  us  a  picture  which  cannot  but  impress  our 

'  Jer.  xxxviii.  6. 


iii. 43-54]  GRIEVING  BEFORE   GOD  251 

minds  with  the  unutterable  wretchedness  of  the  sufferers 
from  such  a  calamity  as  the  siege  of  Jerusalem.  Of 
course  there  must  have  been  some  special  reason  for  the 
exceptionally  severe  treatment  of  the  poet.  What  this 
was  we  cannot  tell.  If  the  same  patriotic  spirit  burned 
in  his  soul  in  the  midst  of  the  war  as  we  now  find  at 
the  time  of  later  reflection,  it  would  be  most  reasonable 
to  conjecture  that  the  ardent  lover  of  his  country  had 
done  or  said  something  to  irritate  the  enemy,  and  pos- 
sibly that  as  he  devoted  his  poetic  gifts  at  a  subsequent 
time  to  lamenting  the  overthrow  of  his  city,  he  may  have 
employed  them  with  a  more  practical  purpose  among 
the  battle  scenes  to  write  some  inspiring  martial  ode  in 
which  we  may  be  sure  he  would  not  have  spared  the 
ruthless  invader.  But  then  he  says  his  persecution 
was  without  a  cause.  He  may  have  been  undeservedly 
suspected  of  acting  as  a  spy.  It  is  only  by  chance  that 
now  and  again  we  get  a  glimpse  of  the  backwaters  of 
a  great  flood  such  as  that  which  was  now  devastating 
the  land  of  Judah  ;  most  of  the  dreary  scene  is  shrouded 
in  gloom. 

Lastly,  we  must  not  fail  to  remember,  in  reading 
these  expressions  of  patriotic  and  personal  grief,  that 
they  are  the  outpourings  of  the  heart  of  the  poet 
before  God.  They  are  all  addressed  to  God's  ear ;  they 
are  all  part  of  a  prayer.  Thus  they  illustrate  the  way 
in  which  prayer  takes  the  form  of  confiding  in  God. 
It  is  a  great  relief  to  be  able  simply  to  tell  Him  every- 
thing. Perhaps,  however,  here  we  may  detect  a  note 
of  complaint ;  but  if  so  it  is  not  a  note  of  rebellion  or 
of  unbelief  Although  the  evils  from  which  the  elegist 
and  his  people  are  suffering  so  grievously  are  attributed 
to  God  in  the  most  uncompromising  manner,  the  writer 
does  not  hesitate  to  look  to  God  for  deliverance.     Thus 


252  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

in  the  very  midst  of  his  lamentations  he  says  that  his 
weeping  is  to  continue  "  till  the  Lord  look  down,  and 
behold  from  heaven."*  He  will  not  cease  weeping 
until  this  happens  ;  but  he  does  not  expect  to  have 
to  spend  all  the  remainder  of  his  days  in  tears.  He 
is  assured  that  God  will  hear,  and  answer,  and  deliver. 
The  time  of  the  Divine  response  is  quite  unknown  to 
him ;  it  may  be  still  far  off,  and  there  may  be  much 
weary  waiting  to  be  endured  first.  But  it  will  come, 
and  if  no  one  can  tell  how  long  the  interval  of  trial 
may  be,  so  also  no  one  can  say  but  that  the  deliverance 
may  arrive  suddenly  and  with  a  surprise  of  mercy. 
Thus  the  poet  weeps  on,  but  in  undying  hope. 

This  is  the  right  attitude  of  the  Christian  mourner. 
We  cannot  penetrate  the  mystery  of  God's  times  ;  but 
that  they  are  in  His  own  hands  is  not  to  be  denied. 
Therefore  the  test  of  faith  is  often  given  in  the  neces- 
sity for  indefinite  waiting.  To  the  man  who  trusts 
God  there  is  always  a  future.  Whatever  such  a  man 
may  have  to  endure  he  should  find  a  place  in  his  plaint 
for  the  word  "  until."  He  is  not  plunged  into  ever- 
lasting night.  He  has  but  to  endure  until  the  day 
dawn. 


50- 


CHAPTER   XVII 

DE  PROFUNDIS 
iii.  55-56 

AS  this  third  elegy — the  richest  and  the  most 
elaborate  of  the  five  that  constitute  the  Book  of 
Lamentations — draws  to  a  close  it  retains  its  curious 
character  of  variability,  not  aiming  at  any  climax,  but 
simply  winding  on  till  its  threefold  acrostics  are  com- 
pleted by  the  limits  of  the  Hebrew  alphabet,  like  a 
river  that  is  monotonous  in  the  very  succession  of  its 
changes,  now  flowing  through  a  dark  gorge,  then 
rippling  in  clear  sunlight,  and  again  plunging  into 
gloomy  caverns.  The  beauty  and  brightness  of  this 
very  variegated  poem  is  found  at  its  centre.  Sadder 
thoughts  follow.  But  these  are  not  so  wholly  com- 
plaining as  the  opening  passages  had  been.  There  is 
one  thread  of  continuity  that  may  be  traced  right 
through  the  series  of  changes  which  occupy  the  latter 
part  of  the  poem.  The  poet  having  once  turned  to  the 
refuge  of  prayer  never  altogether  forsakes  it.  The 
meditations  as  much  as  the  petitions  that  here  occur 
are  all  directed  to  God. 

A  peculiarity  of  the   last  portion  of  the  elegy  that 

claims  special  attention  is  the  interesting  reminiscence 

with    which    the    poet    finds    encouragement    for    his 

present  prayers.     He  is  recalling  the  scenes  of  that 

253 


254  THE   LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

most  distressing  period  of  his  life,  the  time  when  he 
had  been  cast  into  a  flooded  dungeon.  If  ever  he  had 
come  near  to  death  it  must  have  been  then  ;  though 
his  life  was  spared  the  misery  of  his  condition  had 
been  extreme.  While  in  this  most  wretched  situation 
the  persecuted  patriot  cried  to  God  for  help,  and  as  he 
now  recollects  for  his  present  encouragement,  he  re- 
ceived a  distinct  and  unmistakable  answer.  The  scene 
is  most  impressive.  As  it  shapes  itself  to  his  memory, 
the  victim  of  tyranny  is  in  the  lowest  dungeon.  This 
phrase  suggests  the  thought  of  the  awful  Hebrew  Sheol. 
So  dark  was  his  experience,  and  so  near  was  the 
sufferer  to  death,  it  seems  to  him  as  though  he  had 
been  indeed  plunged  down  into  the  very  abode  of  the 
dead.  Yet  here  he  found  utterance  for  prayer.  It  was 
the  prayer  of  utter  extremit}',  almost  the  last  wild  cry 
of  a  despairing  soul,  yet  not  quite,  for  that  is  no  prayer 
at  all,  all  prayer  requiring  some  real  faith,  if  only  as  a 
grain  of  mustard  seed.  Moreover,  the  poet  states  that 
he  called  upon  the  name  of  God.  Now  in  the  Bible 
the  name  always  stands  for  the  attributes  which  it 
connotes.  To  call  on  God's  name  is  to  make  mention 
of  some  of  His  known  and  revealed  characteristics. 
The  man  who  will  do  this  is  more  than  one  "  feel- 
ing after  God  ;  "  he  has  a  definite  conception  of  the 
nature  and  disposition  of  the  Being  to  whom  he  is 
addressing  himself.  Thus  it  happens  that  old,  familiar 
ideas  of  God,  as  He  had  been  known  in  the  days 
of  light  and  joy,  rise  up  in  the  heart  of  the  miser- 
able man,  and  awaken  a  longing  desire  to  seek  the 
help  of  One  so  great  and  good  and  merciful.  Just  in 
proportion  to  the  fulness  of  the  meaning  of  the  name 
of  God  as  it  is  conceived  by  us,  will  our  prayers  win 
definiteness  of  aim   and  strength  of  wing.     The  altar 


iii.  55-66.]  DE  PROFUNDIS  255 

to  "  an  unknown  god  "  can  excite  but  the  feeblest  and 
vaguest  devotion.  Inasmuch  as  our  Lord  has  greatly 
enriched  the  contents  of  the  name  of  God  by  His  full 
revelation  of  the  Divine  Father,  to  us  Christians  there 
has  come  a  more  definite  direction  and  a  more  powerful 
impulse  for  prayer.  Even  though  this  is  a  prayer 
de  profundis  it  is  an  enlightened  prayer.  We  may 
believe  that,  like  a  star  seen  from  the  depths  of  a  well 
which  excludes  the  glare  of  day,  the  significance  of  the 
sacred  Name  shone  out  to  the  sufferer  with  a  beauty 
never  before  perceived  when  he  looked  up  to  heaven 
from  the  darkness  of  his  pit  of  misery. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  in  this  passage  the  elegist 
is  following  the  sixty-ninth  psalm,  and  that  perhaps 
that  psalm  is  his  own  composition  and  the  expression 
of  the  very  prayer  to  which  he  is  here  referring.  At 
all  events,  the  psalm  exactly  fits  the  situation;  and 
therefore  it  may  be  taken  as  a  perfect  illustration  of 
the  kind  of  prayer  alluded  to.  The  psalmist  is  "  in 
deep  mire,  where  there  is  no  standing ; "  he  has  "  come 
into  deep  waters,  where  the  floods  overthrow "  him ; 
he  is  persecuted  by  enemies  who  hate  him  "without  a 
cause ; "  he  has  been  weeping  till  his  e3'es  have  failed. 
Meanwhile  he  has  been  waiting  for  God,  in  prayers 
mingled  with  confessions.  It  is  his  zeal  for  God's 
house  that  has  brought  him  so  near  to  death.  He 
beseeches  God  that  the  flood  may  not  be  allowed  to 
overwhelm  him,  nor  **  the  pit  shut  her  mouth  upon 
him."  He  concludes  with  an  invocation  of  curses 
upon  the  heads  of  his  enemies.  All  these  as  well  as 
some  minor  points  agree  very  closely  with  our  poet's 
picture  of  his  persecutions  and  the  prayer  he  here 
records. 

Read  in  the  light  of  the  elegist's  experience,  such  a 


256  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


prayer  as  that  of  the  psalm  cannot  be  taken  as  a  model 
for  daily  devotion.  It  is  a  pity  that  our  habitual  use 
of  the  Psalter  should  encourage  this  application  of 
it.  The  result  is  mischievous  in  several  ways.  It 
tends  to  make  our  worship  unreal,  because  the  experi- 
ence of  the  psalmist,  even  when  read  metaphorically, 
as  it  was  probably  intended  to  be  read,  is  by  no  means 
a  type  of  the  normal  condition  of  human  life.  Besides, 
in  so  far  as  we  bring  ourselves  to  sympathise  with  this 
piteous  outcry  of  a  distressed  soul,  we  reduce  our 
worship  to  a  melancholy  plaint,  when  it  should  be  a 
joyous  anthem  of  praise.  At  the  same  time,  we  un- 
consciously temper  the  language  we  quote  with  the 
less  painful  feelings  of  our  own  experience,  so  that  its 
force  is  lost  upon  us. 

Yet  the  psalm  is  of  value  as  a  revelation  of  a  soul's 
agony  relieved  by  prayer ;  and  there  are  occasions 
when  its  very  words  can  be  repeated  by  men  and 
women  who  are  indeed  overwhelmed  by  trouble.  If 
we  do  not  spoil  the  occasional  by  attempting  to  make 
it  habitual  it  is  wonderful  to  see  how  rich  the  Bible  is 
in  utterances  to  suit  all  cases  and  all  conditions.  Such 
an  outpouring  of  a  distressed  heart  as  the  elegist  hints 
at  and  the  psalmist  illustrates,  is  itself  full  of  profound 
significance.  The  stirring  of  a  soul  to  its  depths  is  a 
revelation  of  its  depths.  This  revelation  prevents  us 
from  taking  petty  views  of  human  nature.  No  one 
can  contemplate  the  Titanic  struggle  of  Laocoon  or  the 
immeasurable  grief  of  Niobe  without  a  sense  of  the 
tragic  greatness  of  which  human  life  is  capable.  We 
live  so  much  on  the  surface  that  we  are  in  danger  of 
forgetting  that  life  is  not  always  a  superficial  thing. 
But  when  a  volcano  bursts  out  of  the  quiet  plain  of 
everyday  existence,  we  are  startled  into  the  perception 


iii.  55-66.]  DE  PROFUNDIS  257 

that  there  must  be  hidden  fires  which  we  may  not  have 
suspected  before.  And,  further,  when  the  soul  in  its 
extremity  is  seen  to  be  turning  for  refuge  to  God, 
the  revelation  of  its  Gethsemane  gives  a  new  meaning 
to  the  very  idea  of  prayer.  Here  is  prayer  indeed,  and 
at  the  sight  of  such  a  profound  reality  we  are  shamed 
into  doubting  whether  we  have  ever  begun  to  pray 
at  all,  so  stiff  and  chill  do  our  utterances  to  the  Unseen 
now  appear  to  be  in  comparison  with  this  Jacob-like 
wrestling. 

Immediately  after  mentioning  the  fact  of  his  prayer 
the  elegist  adds  that  this  was  heard  by  God.  His  cry 
rose  up  from  "the  lowest  dungeon"  and  reached  the 
heights  of  heaven.  And  yet  we  cannot  credit  this  to 
the  inherent  vigour  of  prayer.  If  a  petition  can  thus 
wing  its  way  to  heaven,  that  is  because  it  is  of  heavenly 
origin.  There  is  no  difficulty  in  making  air  to  rise 
above  water ;  the  difficulty  is  to  sink  it ;  and  if  any 
could  be  taken  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  the  greater 
the  depth  descended  the  swifter  would  it  shoot  up. 
Since  all  true  prayer  is  an  inspiration  it  cannot  spend 
itself  until  it  has,  so  to  speak,  restored  the  equilibrium 
by  returning  to  its  natural  sphere.  But  the  elegist 
puts  the  case  another  way.  In  His  great  condescension 
God  stoops  to  the  very  lowest  depths  to  find  one  ot 
His  distressed  children.  It  is  not  hard  to  make  the 
prayer  of  the  dungeon  reach  the  ear  of  God,  because 
God  is  in  the  dungeon.  He  is  most  near  when  He  is 
most  needed. 

The  prayer  was  more  than  heard ;  it  was  answered 
— there  was  a  Divine  voice  in  response  to  this  cry  to 
God,  a  voice  that  reached  the  ear  of  the  desolate 
prisoner  in  the  silence  of  his  dungeon.  It  consisted 
of  but  two  words,  but  those  two  words  were  clear  and 

17 


258  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

unmistakable,  and  quite  sufficient  to  satisfy  the  listener. 
The  voice  said,  "Fear  not."^     That  was  enough. 

Shall  we  doubt  the  reality  of  the  remarkable  expe- 
rience that  the  elegist  here  records  ?  Or  can  we 
explain  it  away  by  reference  to  the  morbid  condition 
of  the  mind  of  a  prisoner  enduring  the  punishment  of 
sohtary  confinement  ?  It  is  said  that  this  unnatural 
punishment  tends  to  develop  insanity  in  its  miserable 
victims.  But  the  poet  is  now  reviewing  the  occurrence, 
which  made  so  deep  an  impression  on  his  mind  at  the 
time,  in  the  calm  of  later  reflection  ;  and  evidently  he 
has  no  doubt  of  its  reality.  It  has  nothing  in  it  of 
the  wild  fancy  of  a  disordered  brain.  Lunacy  raves  ; 
this  simple  message  is  calm.  And  it  is  just  such  a 
message  as  God  might  be  expected  to  give  if  He  spoke 
at  all — just  like  Him,  we  may  say.  To  this  remark 
some  doubting  critic  may  reply,  "  Exactly  ;  and  therefore 
the  more  likely  to  have  been  imagined  by  the  expectant 
worshipper."  But  such  an  inference  is  not  psycho- 
logically correct.  The  reply  is  not  in  harmony  with 
the  tone  of  the  prayer,  but  directly  opposed  to  it. 
Agony  and  terror  cannot  generate  an  assurance  of 
peace  and  safety.  The  poison  does  not  secrete  its 
own  antidote.  Here  is  an  indication  of  the  presence  of 
another  voice,  because  the  words  breathe  another  spirit. 
Besides,  this  is  not  an  unparalleled  experience. 

Most  frequently,  no  doubt,  the  answer  to  prayer  is 
not  vocal,  and  yet  the  reality  of  it  may  not  be  any 
the  less  certain  to  the  seeking  soul.  It  may  be  most 
definite,  although  it  comes  in  a  deed  rather  than  in 
a  word.  Then  the  grateful  recipient  can  exclaim  with 
the  psalmist — 


iii.  57. 


iii.  55-66.]  DE  PROFUNDIS  259 

"This  poor  man  cried,  and  the  Lord  heard  him, 
And  saved  him  out  of  all  his  troubles.'" 

Here  is  an  answer,  but  not  a  spoken  one,  only  an 
action,  in  saving  from  trouble.  In  other  cases,  however, 
the  reply  approaches  nearer  the  form  of  a  message 
from  heaven.  When  we  remember  that  God  is  our 
Father  the  wonder  is  not  that  at  rare  intervals  these 
voices  have  been  heard,  but  rather  that  they  are  so 
infrequent.  It  is  so  easy  to  become  the  victim  of  delu- 
sions that  some  caution  is  requisite  to  assure  ourselves 
of  the  existene  of  Divine  utterances.  The  very  idea 
of  the  occurrence  of  such  phenomena  is  discredited  by 
the  fact  that  those  persons  who  profess  most  eagerly 
to  have  heard  supernatural  voices  are  commonly  the 
subjects  of  hysteria ;  and  when  the  voices  become 
frequent  this  fact  is  taken  by  physicians  as  a  symptom 
of  approaching  insanity.  Among  semi-civilised  people 
madness  is  supposed  to  be  closely  allied  to  inspiration. 
The  mantis  is  not  far  from  the  mad  man.  Such  a  man 
is  not  the  better  off  for  the  march  of  civilisation.  The 
ancients  would  have  honoured  him  as  a  prophet ;  we 
shut  him  up  in  a  lunatic  asylum.  But  these  dis- 
couraging considerations  do  not  exhaust  the  question. 
Delusions  are  not  in  themselves  disproofs  of  the 
existence  of  the  occurrences  they  emulate.  Each  case 
must  be  taken  on  its  own  merits ;  and  when,  as  in 
that  which  is  now  under  our  consideration,  the  character 
of  the  incident  points  to  a  conviction  of  its  solid  reality, 
it  is  only  a  mark  of  narrowness  of  thought  to  refuse  to 
lift  it  out  of  the  category  of  idle  fancies. 

But,  quite  apart  from  the  question  of  the  sounding 
of  Divine  voices  in  the  bodily  ear,  the  more  important 

'  Psalm  XX        6. 


26o  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

truth  to  be  considered  is  that  in  some  way,  if  only  by 
spiritual  impression,  God  does  most  really  speak  to 
His  children,  and  that  He  speaks  now  as  surely  as  He 
spoke  in  the  days  of  Israel.  We  have  no  new  prophets 
and  apostles  who  can  give  us  fresh  revelations  in  the 
form  of  additions  to  our  Bible.  But  that  is  not  what 
is  meant.  The  elegist  did  not  receive  a  statement  of 
doctrine  in  answer  to  his  prayer,  nor,  on  this  occasion, 
even  help  for  the  writing  of  his  inspired  poetry.  The 
voice  to  which  he  here  alludes  was  of  quite  a  different 
character. 

This  was  in  the  olden  times ;  but  if  then,  why  not 
also  now  ?  Evidently  the  elegist  regarded  it  as  a  rare 
and  wonderful  occurrence — a  single  experience  to  which 
he  looked  back  in  after  years  with  the  interest  one 
feels  in  a  vivid  recollection  which  rises  Hke  a  mountain, 
clean  cut  against  the  sky,  above  the  mists  that  so 
quickly  gather  on  the  low  plains  of  the  uneventful  past. 
Perhaps  it  is  only  in  one  of  the  crises  of  life  that  such 
an  indubitable  message  is  sent— when  the  soul  is  in 
the  lowest  dungeon,  in  extremis,  crying  out  of  the  dark- 
ness, helpless  if  not  yet  hopeless,  overwhelmed,  almost 
extinguished.  But  if  we  listened  for  it,  who  can  tell 
but  that  the  voice  might  not  be  so  rare  ?  We  do  not 
believe  in  it ;  therefore  we  do  not  hear  it.  Or  the 
noise  of  the  world's  great  loom  and  the  busy  thoughts 
of  our  own  hearts  drown  the  music  that  still  floats 
down  from  heaven  to  ears  that  are  tuned  to  catch  its 
notes  ;  for  it  does  not  come  in  thunder,  and  we  must 
ourselves  be  still  if  we  would  hear  the  still  small  voice, 
inwardly  still,  still  in  soul,  stifling  the  chatter  of  self, 
stopping  our  ears  to  the  din  of  the  world.  There  are 
those  to-day  who  tell  us  with  calm  assurance,  not  at 
all   in   the  visionary's  falsetto   notes,   that   they  have 


iii.  55-66.]  DE  PROFUNDIS  261 

known  just  what  is  here  described  by  the  poet — in  the 
silence  of  a  mountain  valley,  in  the  quiet  of  a  sick 
chamber,  even  in  the  noisy  crowd  at  a  railway  station. 

When  this  is  granted  it  is  still  well  for  us  to 
remember  that  we  are  not  dependent  for  Divine 
consolation  on  voices  which  to  many  must  ever  be  as 
dubious  as  they  are  rare.  This  short  message  of  two 
words  is  in  effect  the  essence  of  teachings  that  can  be 
gathered  as  freely  from  almost  every  page  of  the  Bible 
as  flowers  from  a  meadow  in  May.  We  have  the 
"  more  sure  word  of  prophecy,"  and  the  burden  of  it 
is  the  same  as  the  message  of  the  voice  that  comforted 
the  poet  in  his  dungeon. 

That  message  is  wholly  reassuring — "  Fear  not." 
So  said  God  to  the  patriarch  :  "  Fear  not,  Abram  ;  I 
am  thy  shield,  and  thy  exceeding  great  reward  ;  "  ^  and 
to  His  people  through  the  prophet  of  the  restoration  : 
"  Fear  not,  thou  worm  Jacob  ; "  ^  and  Jesus  to  His 
disciples  in  the  storm  :  "  Be  of  good  cheer  :  it  is  I  :  be 
not  afraid";^  and  our  Lord  again  in  His  parting 
address  :  "  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled,  neither  let 
it  be  fearful "  ;  *  and  the  glorified  Christ  to  His  terrified 
friend  John,  when  He  laid  His  right  hand  on  him  with 
the  words  :  "  Fear  not ;  I  am  the  first  and  the  last, 
and  the  Living  One  ;  and  I  was  dead,  and  behold,  I  am 
alive  for  ever  more,  and  I  have  the  keys  of  death  and 
of  Hades."  ^  This  is  the  word  that  God  is  continually 
speaking  to  His  faint-hearted  children.  When  "  the 
burthen  of  the  mystery,"  and 

"  the  heavy  and  the  weary  weight 
Of  all  this  unintelligible  world  " 


Gen.  XV.  I.  ^  Mark  vi.  50.  ■'  Rev.  i.  17,  18. 

Isa.  xli.  14.  '  John  xiv.  27. 


262  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

oppress,  when  the  greater  sorrows  threaten  to  crush 
outright,  listening  for  the  voice  of  God,  we  may  hear 
the  message  of  love  from  a  Father's  heart  as  though 
spoken  afresh  to  each  of  us ;  for  we  have  but  to 
acquaint  ourselves  with  Him  to  be  at  peace. 

The  elegist  does  not  recall  this  scene  from  his  past 
life  merely  in  order  to  indulge  in  the  pleasures  of 
memory — generally  rather  melancholy  pleasures,  and 
even  mocking  if  they  are  in  sharp  contrast  to  the 
present.  His  object  is  to  find  encouragement  for 
renewed  hope  in  the  efficacy  of  prayer.  In  the  com- 
plaint that  he  has  put  into  the  mouth  of  His  people 
He  has  just  been  depicting  the  failure  of  prayer.  But 
now  he  feels  that  if  for  a  time  God  has  wrapped  Him- 
self in  a  mantle  of  wrath  this  cannot  be  for  ever,  for 
He  who  was  so  gracious  to  the  cry  of  His  servant  on 
that  ever-memorable  occasion  will  surely  attend  again 
to  the  appeal  of  distress.  This  is  always  the  greatest 
encouragement  for  seeking  help  from  God.  It  is 
difficult  to  find  much  satisfaction  in  what  is  called  with 
an  awkward  inconsequence  of  diction  the  "  philosophy 
of  prayer " ;  the  spirit  of  philosophy  .  is  so  wholly 
different  from  the  spirit  of  prayer.  The  great  justifica- 
tion for  prayer  is  the  experience  of  prayer.  It  is  only 
the  prayerless  man  who  is  wholly  sceptical  on  this 
subject.  The  man  of  prayer  cannot  but  believe  in 
prayer  ;  and  the  more  he  prays  and  the  oftener  he 
turns  to  this  refuge  in  all  times  of  need  the  fuller  is 
his  assurance  that  God  hears  and  answers  him. 

Considering  how  God  acted  as  his  advocate  when  he 
was  in  danger  in  the  earlier  crisis,  and  then  redeemed 
his  life,  the  poet  points  to  this  fact  as  a  plea  in  his 
not  c 

iii.  58. 


iii.  55-66.]  DE  PROFUNDIS  263 

adopted.  Men  feel  a  peculiar  interest  in  those  whom 
they  have  already  helped,  an  interest  that  is  stronger 
than  the  sense  of  gratitude,  for  we  are  more  attracted 
to  our  dependants  than  to  our  benefactors.  If  God 
shares  this  feeling,  how  strongly  must  He  be  drawn 
to  us  by  His  many  former  favours  !  The  language  of 
the  elegist  gains  a  great  enrichment  of  meaning  when 
read  in  the  light  of  the  Christian  Gospel.  In  a  deep 
sense,  of  which  he  could  have  had  but  the  least  glimmer- 
ing of  apprehension,  we  can  appeal  to  God  as  the 
Redeemer  of  our  life,  for  we  can  take  the  Cross  of 
Christ  as  our  plea.  St.  Paul  makes  use  of  this  strongest 
of  all  arguments  when  He  urges  that  if  God  gave  His 
Son,  and  if  Christ  died  for  us,  all  other  needful  bless- 
ings, since  they  cannot  involve  so  great  a  sacrifice, 
will  surely  follow.  Accordingly,  we  can  pray  in  the 
language  of  the  Dies  Irce — 

"Wearily  for  me  Thou  soughtest, 
On  the  Cross  my  life  Thou  boughtest, 
Lose  not  all  for  which  Thou  wroughtest." 

Rising  from  the  image  of  the  advocate  to  that  of  the 
magistrate  the  distressed  man  begs  God  to  judge  his 
cause.^  He  would  have  God  look  at  his  enemies — how 
they  wrong  him,  insult  him,  make  him  the  theme  of 
their  jesting  songs.^ 

It  would  have  been  more  to  our  taste  if  the  poem 
had  ended  here,  if  there  had  been  no  remaining  letters 
in  the  Hebrew  alphabet  to  permit  the  extension  of  the 
acrostics  beyond  the  point  we  have  now  reached.  We 
cannot  but  feel  that  its  tone  is  lowered  at  the  close. 
The  writer  here  proceeds  to  heap  imprecations  on 
the  heads  of  his  enemies.     It  is  vain  for  som.e   com- 

'  iii.  59.  -  iii.  60-3. 


264  T^HE  LAMENT  A  TIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

mentators  to  plead  the  weak  excuse  that  the  language  is 
"  prophetic."  This  is  certainly  more  than  the  utterance 
of  a  prediction.  No  unprejudiced  reader  can  deny  that 
it  reveals  a  desire  that  the  oppressors  may  be  blighted 
and  blasted  with  ruin,  and  even  if  the  words  were  only 
a  foretelling  of  a  divinely-decreed  fate  they  would 
imply  a  keen  sense  of  satisfaction  in  the  prospect, 
which  they  describe  as  something  to  be  gloated  over. 
We  cannot  expect  this  Jewish  patriot  to  anticipate  our 
Lord's  intercession  and  excuse  for  His  enemies.  Even 
St.  Paul  so  far  forgot  himself  as  to  treat  the  High 
Priest  in  a  very  different  manner  from  his  Master's 
behaviour.  But  we  may  see  here  one  of  the  worst 
effects  of  tyranny — the  dark  passion  of  revenge  that  it 
rouses  in  its  victims.  The  provocation  was  maddening, 
and  not  only  of  a  private  nature.  Think  of  the  situa- 
tion— the  beloved  city  sacked  and  destroyed,  the  sacred 
temple  a  heap  of  smouldering  ruins,  village  homesteads 
all  over  the  hills  of  Judah  wrecked  and  deserted  ; 
slaughter,  outrage,  unspeakable  wrongs  endured  by 
wives  and  maidens,  little  children  starved  to  death.  Is 
it  wonderful  that  the  patriot's  temper  was  not  the 
sweetest  when  he  thought  of  the  authors  of  such 
atrocities  ?  There  is  no  possibility  of  denying  the  fact 
— the  fierce  fires  of  Hebrew  hatred  for  the  oppressors 
of  the  much-suffering  race  here  burst  into  a  flame,  and 
towards  the  end  of  this  finest  of  elegies  we  read  the 
dark  imprecation,   "  Thy  curse  upon  them  !  "  ^ 


iii.  65. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

CONTRASTS 


IN  form  the  fourth  elegy  is  slightly  different  from 
each  of  its  predecessors.  Following  the  charac- 
teristic plan  of  the  Book  of  Lamentations,  it  is  an 
acrostic  of  twenty-two  verses  arranged  in  the  order 
of  the  Hebrew  alphabet.  In  it  we  meet  with  the  same 
curious  transposition  of  two  letters  that  is  found  in 
the  second  and  third  elegies ;  it  has  also  the  peculiar 
metre  of  Hebrew  elegiac  poetry — the  very  lengthy  line, 
broken  into  two  unequal  parts.  But,  like  the  first  and 
second,  it  differs  from  the  third  elegy,  which  repeats 
the  acrostic  letters  in  three  successive  lines,  in  only 
using  each  acrostic  once — at  the  beginning  of  a  fresh 
verse ;  and  it  differs  from  all  the  three  first  elegies, 
which  are  arranged  in  triplets,  in  having  only  two  lines 
in  each  verse. 

This  poem  is  very  artistically  constructed  in  the 
balancing  of  its  ideas  and  phrases.  The  opening  section 
of  it,  from  the  beginning  to  the  twelfth  verse,  consists 
of  a  pair  of  duplicate  passages — the  first  from  verse 
one  to  verse  six,  the  second  from  verse  seven  to  verse 
eleven,  the  twelfth  verse  bringing  this  part  of  the  poem 
to  a  close  by  adding  a  reflection  on  the  common  subject 
of  the  twin  passages.  Thus  the  parallelism  which  we 
265 


266  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


usually  meet  with  in  individual  verses  is  here  extended 
to  two  series  of  verses,  we  might  perhaps  say,  two 
stanzas,  except  that  there  is  no  such  formal  division. 

In  each  of  these  elaborately-wrought  sections  the 
elegist  brings  out  a  rich  array  of  similes  to  enforce  the 
tremendous  contrast  between  the  original  condition  of 
the  people  of  Jerusalem  and  their  subsequent  wretched- 
ness. The  details  of  the  two  descriptions  follow  closely 
parallel  lines,  with  sufficient  diversity,  both  in  idea  and 
in  illustration,  though  chiefly  in  illustration,  to  avoid 
tautology  and  to  serve  to  heighten  the  general  effect  by 
mutual  comparisons.  Both  passages  open  with  images 
of  beautiful  and  costly  natural  objects  to  which  the  elite 
of  Jerusalem  are  compared.  Next  comes  the  violent 
contrast  of  their  state  after  the  overthrow  of  the  city. 
Then  turning  aside  to  more  distant  scenes,  each  of 
which  is  more  or  less  repellent — the  lair  of  wild  beasts 
in  the  first  case,  in  the, second  the  battle-field — the  poet 
describes  the  much  more  degraded  and  miserable  con- 
dition of  his  people.  Both  passages  direct  especial 
attention  to  the  fate  of  children — the  first  to  their 
starvation,  the  second  to  a  perfectly  ghastly  scene.  At 
this  point  in  each  part  the  previous  daintiness  of  the 
upbringing  of  the  more  refined  classes  is  contrasted 
with  the  condition  of  degradation  worse  than  that  of 
savages  to  which  they  have  been  reduced.  Each 
passage  concludes  with  a  reference  to  those  deeper 
facts  of  the  case  which  make  it  a  sign  of  the  wrath  of 
heaven  against  exceptionally  guilty  sinners. 

The  elegist  begins  with  an  evident  allusion  to  the 
consequences  of  the  burning  of  the  temple,  which  we 
learn  from  the  history  was  effected  by  the  Babylonian 
general    Nebuzar-adan.'^      The    costly    splendour   with 

'  2  Kings  XXV.  9. 


iv.  I-I2.]  CONTRASTS  267 

which  this  temple  at  Jerusalem  was  decorated  allowed 
of  a  rare  glitter  of  gold,  such  as  Josephus  describes 
when  writing  of  the  later  temple  ;  gold  not  like  that  of 
the  domes  of  St.  Mark's,  mellowed  by  the  climate  of 
Venice  to  a  sober  depth  of  hue,  but  all  ablaze  with 
dazzling  radiance.  The  first  effect  of  the  smoke  of 
a  great  conflagration  would  be  to  cloud  and  soil  this 
somewhat  raw  magnificence,  so  that  the  choice  gold 
became  dull.  That  the  precious  stones  stolen  from 
the  temple  treasury  would  be  flung  carelessly  about 
the  streets,  as  our  Authorised  Version  would  seem  to 
suggest,  is  not  to  be  supposed  in  the  case  of  the  sack 
of  a  city  by  a  civilised  army,  whatever  might  happen  if 
a  Vandal  host  swept  through  it.  "  The  stones  of  the 
sanctuary,"  ^  however,  might  be  the  stones  with  which 
the  building  had  been  constructed.  Still,  even  with  this 
interpretation  the  statement  seems  very  improbable  that 
the  invaders  would  take  the  trouble  to  cart  these  huge 
blocks  about  the  city  in  order  to  distribute  them  in 
heaps  at  all  the  street  corners.  We  are  driven  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  poet  is  speaking  metaphorically, 
that  he  is  meaning  the  Jews  themselves,  or  perhaps  the 
more  favoured  classes,  "  the  noble  sons  of  Zion  "  of 
whom  he  writes  openly  in  the  next  verse.^  This 
interpretation  is  confirmed  when  we  consider  the  com- 
parison with  the  parallel  passage,  which  starts  at  once 
with  a  reference  to  the  ^' princes."^  It  seems  likely 
then  that  the  gold  that  has  been  so  sullied  also  repre- 
sents the  choicer  part  of  the  people.  The  writer 
deplores  the  destruction  of  his  beloved  sanctuary,  and 
the  image  of  that  calamity  is  in  his  mind  at  the  present 
time ;  and  yet   it   is  not   this   that  he  is   most   deeply 


268  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

lamenting.  He  is  more  concerned  with  the  fate  of  his 
people.  The  patriot  loves  the  very  soil  of  his  native 
land,  the  loyal  citizen  the  very  streets  and  stones  of  his 
city.  But  if  such  a  man  is  more  than  a  dreamer  or 
a  sentimentalist,  flesh  and  blood  must  mean  infinitely 
more  to  him  than  earth  and  stones.  The  ruin  of  a  city 
is  something  else  than  the  destruction  of  its  buildings  ; 
an  earthquake  or  a  fire  may  effect  this,  and  yet,  like 
Chicago,  the  city  may  rise  again  in  greater  splendour. 
The  ruin  that  is  most  deplorable  is  the  ruin  of  human 
lives. 

This  somewhat  aristocratic  poet,  the  mouthpiece  of 
an  aristocratic  age,  compares  the  sons  of  the  Jewish 
nobility  to  purest  gold.  Yet  he  tells  us  that  they  are 
treated  as  common  earthen  vessels,  perhaps  meaning 
in  contrast  to  the  vessels  of  precious  metal  used  in  the 
palaces  of  the  great.  ,  They  are  regarded  as  of  no  more 
value  than  potter's  work,  though  formerly  they  had 
been  prized  as  the  dainty  art  of  a  goldsmith.  This 
first  statement  only  treats  of  insult  and  humiliation. 
But  the  evil  is  worse.  The  jackals  that  he  knows  must 
be  prowling  about  the  deserted  ruins  of  Jerusalem 
even  while  he  writes  suggests  a  strange,  wild  image  to 
the  poet's  mind.^  These  fierce  creatures  suckle  their 
young,  though  not  in  the  tame  manner  of  domestic 
animals.  It  is  singular  that  the  nurture  of  princes 
amid  the  refinements  of  wealth  and  luxury  should  be 
compared  to  the  feeding  of  their  cubs  by  scavengers  of 
the  wilderness.  But  our  thoughts  are  thus  directed 
to  the  wide  extent,  the  universal  exercise  of  maternal 
instincts  throughout  the  animal  world,  even  among  the 
most  savage  and  homeless  creatures.     Startling  indeed 


IV.  3. 


iv.  I-I2.]  CONTRASTS  269 

is  it  to  think  that  such  instincts  should  ever  fail  among 
men,  or  even  that  circumstances  should  ever  hinder  the 
natural  performance  of  the  functions  to  which  they 
point  with  imperious  urgency.  Although  the  second 
passage  tells  of  the  violent  reversal  of  the  natural 
feelings  of  maternity  under  the  maddening  influence 
of  famine,  here  we  read  how  starvation  has  simply 
stopped  the  tender  ministry  which  mothers  render  to 
their  infants,  with  a  vague  hint  at  some  cruelty  on  the 
part  of  the  Jewish  mothers.  A  comparison  with  the 
supposed  conduct  of  ostriches  in  leaving  their  eggs 
suggests  that  this  is  negative  cruelty ;  their  hearts 
being  frozen  with  agony,  the  wretched  mothers  lose  all 
interest  in  their  children.  But  then  there  is  not  food 
for  them.  The  calamities  of  the  times  have  staunched 
the  mother's  milk  ;  and  there  is  no  bread  for  the  older 
children.^  It  is  the  extreme  reversal  of  their  fortunes 
that  makes  the  misery  of  the  children  of  princely  homes 
most  acute ;  even  those  who  do  not  suffer  the  pangs 
of  hunger  are  flung  down  to  the  lowest  depths  of 
wretchedness.  The  members  of  the  aristocracy  have 
been  accustomed  to  live  luxuriously ;  now  they  wander 
about  the  streets  devouring  whatever  they  can  pick 
up.  In  the  old  days  of  luxury  they  used  to  recline  on 
scarlet  couches ;  now  they  have  no  better  bed  than  the 
filthy  dunghill.2 

The  passage  concludes  with  a  reflection  on  the 
general  character  of  this  dreadful  condition  of  Israel.^ 
It  must  be  closely  connected  with  the  sins  of  the 
people.  The  drift  of  the  context  would  lead  us  to 
judge  that  the  poet  does  not  mean  to  compare  the 
guilt  of  Jerusalem  with  that  of  Sodom,  but  rather  the 

'  iv.  4.  -  iv.  5.  ^  iv.  6. 


270  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

fate  of  the  two  cities.  The  punishment  of  Israel  is 
greater  than  that  of  Sodom.  But  this  is  punishment ; 
and  the  odious  comparison  would  not  be  made  unless 
the  sin  had  been  of  the  blackest  dye.  Thus  in  this 
elegy  the  calamities  of  Jerusalem  are  again  traced 
back  to  the  ill-doings  of  her  people.  The  awful  fate 
of  the  cities  of  the  plain  stands  out  in  the  ancient 
narrative  as  the  exceptional  punishment  of  exceptional 
wickedness.  But  now  in  the  race  for  a  first  place  in 
the  history  of  doom  Jerusalem  has  broken  the  record. 
Even  Sodom  has  been  eclipsed  in  the  headlong  course 
by  the  city  once  most  favoured  by  heaven.  It  seems 
well  nigh  impossible.  What  could  be  worse  than  total 
destruction  by  fire  from  heaven  ?  The  elegist  considers 
that  there  are  two  points  in  the  fate  of  Jerusalem  that 
confer  a  gloomy  pre-eminence  in  misery.  The  doom 
of  Sodom  was  sudden,  and  man  had  no  hand  in  it 
but  Jerusalem  fell  into  the  hands  of  man — a  calamity 
which  David  judged  to  be  worse  than  falling  into  the 
hands  of  God  ;  and  she  had  to  endure  a  long,  lingering 
agony. 

Passing  on  to  the  consideration  of  the  parallel  sec- 
tion, we  see  that  the  author  follows  the  same  lines, 
though  with  considerable  freshness  of  treatment.  Still 
directing  especial  attention  to  the  tremendous  change 
in  the  fortunes  of  the  aristocracy,  he  begins  again  by 
describing  the  splendour  of  their  earlier  state.  This 
had  been  advertised  to  all  eyes  by  the  very  complexion 
of  their  countenances.  Unlike  the  toilers  who  were 
necessarily  bronzed  by  working  under  a  southern  sun, 
these  delicately  nurtured  persons  had  been  able  to 
preserve  fair  skins  in  the  shady  seclusion  of  their  cool 
palaces,  so  that  in  the  hyperbole  of  the  poem  they 
could  be  described  as  "  purer  than  snow  "  and  "  whiter 


iv.  I-I2.]  CONTRASTS  271 

than  milk."  ^  Yet  they  had  no  sickly  pallor.  Their 
health  had  been  well  attended  to ;  so  that  they  were 
also  ruddy  as  "corals,"  while  their  dark  hair^  ghstened 
"like  sapphires."  But  now  see  them  1  Their  faces 
are  "  darker  than  blackness."  ^  We  need  not  enquire 
after  a  literal  explanation  of  an  expression  which  is  in 
harmony  with  the  extravagance  of  Oriental  language, 
although  doubtless  exposure  to  the  weather,  and  the 
grime  and  smoke  of  the  scenes  these  children  of  luxury 
had  passed  through,  must  have  had  a  considerable 
effect  on  their  effeminate  countenances.  The  language 
here  is  evidently  figurative.  So  it  is  throughout  the 
passage.  The  whole  aspect  of  the  lives  and  fortunes 
of  these  delicately  nurtured  lordlings  has  been  reversed. 
They  tell  their  story  by  the  gloom  of  their  countenances 
and  by  the  shrivelled  appearance  of  their  bodies.  They 
can  no  longer  be  recognised  in  the  streets,  so  piteous 
a  change  has  their  misfortunes  wrought  in  them. 
Withered  and  wizen,  they  are  reduced  to  skin  and 
bone  by  sheer  famine.  Sufferers  from  such  continuous 
calamities  as  these  fallen  princes  are  passing  through 
are  treated  to  a  worse  fate  than  that  which  overtook 
their  brethren  who  fell  in  the  war.  The  sword  is 
better  than  hunger.  The  victims  of  war,  stricken  down 
in  the  heat  of  battle  but  in  the  midst  of  plenty,  so  that 
they  leave  the  fruits  of  the  field  behind  them  untouched 
because  no  longer  needed,*  are  to  be  counted  happy  in 
being  taken  from  the  evil  to  come. 


'  IV.  7. 

-  iv.  7.  "  Hair."  According  to  a  slight  emendation  of  the  text 
recommended  by  recent  criticism. 

3  iv.  8. 

^  So  perhaps  we  should  understand  ver.  9,  applying  the  last  clause 
to  the  fallen  warriors.     In  the  Revised  Version,  however    this   is 


272  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

The  gruesome  horror  of  the  next  scene  is  beyond 
description/  More  than  once  history  has  had  to 
record  the  absolute  extinction,  nay,  we  must  say  the 
insane  reversal,  of  maternal  instincts  under  the  influence 
of  hunger.  We  could  not  believe  it  possible  if  we  did 
not  know  that  it  had  occurred.  It  is  a  degradation  of 
what  we  hold  to  be  most  sacred  in  human  nature ;  per- 
haps it  is  only  possible  where  human  nature  has  been 
degraded  already,  for  we  must  not  forget  that  in  the 
present  case  the  women  who  are  driven  below  the  level 
of  she-wolves  are  not  children  of  nature,  but  the 
daughters  of  an  effete  civilisation  who  have  been  nursed 
in  the  lap  of  luxury.  This  is  the  climax.  Imagination 
itself  could  scarcely  go  further.  And  yet  accord- 
ing to  his  custom  throughout,  the  elegist  attributes 
these  calamities  of  his  people  to  the  anger  of  God. 
Such  things  seem  to  indicate  a  very  "  fury  "  of  Divine 
wrath ;  the  anger  must  be  fierce  indeed  to  kindle  such 
"  a  fire  in  Zion."  ^  But  now  the  very  foundations  of  the 
city  are  destroyed  even  that  terrible  thirst  for  retribu- 
tion must  be  satisfied. 

These  are  thoughts  which  we  as  Christians  do  not 
care  to  entertain ;  and  yet  it  is  in  the  New  Testament 
that  we  read  that  "  our  God  is  a  consuming  fire  ; "  ^ 
and  it  is  of  our  Lord  that  John  the  Baptist  declares : 
"  He  will  throughly  purge  His  threshing-floor."  ■*  If 
God  is  angry  at  all  His  anger  cannot  be  light ;  for  no 
action  of  His  is  feeble  or  ineffectual.  The  subsequent 
restoration  of  Israel  shows  that  the  fires  to  which  the 
elegist  here  calls  our  attention  were  purgatorial.     This 

rendered  so  as  to  refer  to  the  famished  people  who  pine  away  for 
lack  of  the  fruits  of  the  earth.  Yet  another  rendering  is  "  fade  away 
.  .  .  like  the  growth  of  the  fields." 

'  iv.  lO.  -  iv.  II.  '  Heb.  xii.  29.  ^  Matt.  iii.  12. 


iv.  I-I2.]  CONTRASTS  273 

fact  must  profoundly  affect  our  view  of  their  character. 
Still  they  are  very  real,  or  the  Book  of  Lamentations 
would  not  have  been  written. 

In  view  of  the  whole  situation  so  graphically  por- 
trayed by  means  of  the  double  line  of  illustrations  the 
poet  concludes  this  part  of  his  elegy  with  a  device  that 
reminds  us  of  the  function  of  the  chorus  in  the  Greek 
drama.  We  see  the  kings  of  all  other  nations  in 
amazement  at  the  fate  of  Jerusalem.^  The  mountain 
city  had  the  reputation  of  being  an  impregnable  fortress, 
at  least  so  her  fond  citizens  imagined.  But  now  she 
has  fallen.  It  is  incredible !  The  news  of  this  wholly 
unexpected  disaster  is  supposed  to  send  a  shock  through 
foreign  courts.  We  are  reminded  of  the  blow  that 
stunned  St.  Jerome  when  a  rumour  of  the  fall  of  Rome 
reached  the  studious  monk  in  his  quiet  retreat  at 
Bethlehem.  Men  can  tell  that  a  severe  storm  has  been 
raging  out  in  the  Atlantic  if  they  see  unusually  great 
rollers  breaking  on  the  Cornish  crags.  How  huge  a 
calamity  must  that  be  the  mere  echo  of  which  can  pro- 
duce a  startling  effect  in  far  countries  !  But  could  these 
kings  really  be  so  astonished  seeing  that  Jerusalem  had 
been  captured  twice  before  ?  The  poet's  language  rather 
points  to  the  overweening  pride  and  confidence  of  the 
Jews,  and  it  shows  how  great  the  shock  to  them  must 
have  been  since  they  could  not  but  regard  it  as  a 
wonder  to  the  world.  Such  then  is  the  picture  drawn 
by  our  poet  with  the  aid  of  the  utmost  artistic  skill  in 
bringing  out  its  striking  effects.  Now  before  we  turn 
away  from  it  let  us  ask  ourselves  wherein  its  true 
significance  may  be  said  to  lie.  This  is  a  study  in 
black   and   white.     The  very   language   is   such ;  and 


18 


274  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

when  we  come  to  consider  the  lessons  that  language 
sets  forth  with  so  much  sharpness  and  vigour,  we  shall 
see  that  they  too  partake  of  the  same  character. 

The  force  of  contrasts — that  is  the  first  and  most 
obvious  characteristic  of  the  scene.  We  are  very  familiar 
with  the  heightening  of  effects  by  this  means,  and  it  is 
needless  to  repeat  the  trite  lessons  that  have  been 
derived  from  the  application  of  it  to  life.  We  know  that 
none  suffer  so  keenly  from  adversity  as  those  who 
were  once  very  prosperous.  Marius  in  the  Mamertine 
dungeon,  Napoleon  at  St.  Helena,  Nebuchadnezzar 
among  the  beasts,  Dives  in  Hell,  are  but  notorious 
illustrations  of  what  we  may  all  see  on  the  smaller 
canvas  of  e very-day  life.  Great  as  are  the  hardships  of 
the  children  of  the  "  slums,"  it  is  not  to  them,  but  to  the 
unhappy  victims  of  a  violent  change  of  circumstances, 
that  the  burden  of  poverty  is  most  heavy.  We  have 
seen  this  principle  illustrated  repeatedly  in  the  Book 
of  Lamentations.  But  now  may  we  not  go  behind  it, 
and  lay  hold  of  something  more  than  an  indubitable 
psychological  law  ?  While  looking  only  at  the  re- 
versals of  fortune  which  may  be  witnessed  on  every 
hand,  we  are  tempted  to  hold  life  to  be  Httle  better 
than  a  gambling  bout  with  high  stakes  and  desperate 
play.  Further  consideration,  however,  should  teach  us 
that  the  stakes  are  not  so  high  as  they  appear ;  that  is 
to  say,  that  the  chances  of  the  world  do  not  so  pro- 
foundly affect  our  fate  as  surface  views  would  lead  us 
to  suppose.  Such  things  as  the  pursuit  of  mere  sensa- 
tion, the  life  of  external  aims,  the  surrender  to  the 
excitement  of  the  moment,  are  doubtless  subject  to  the 
vicissitudes  of  contrast;  but  it  is  the  teaching  of  our 
Lord  that  the  higher  pursuits  are  free  from  these  evils. 
If  the  treasure  is  in  heaven  no   thief  can  steal  it,  no 


iv.  I-I2.]  CONTRASTS  275 

moth  or  rust  can  corrupt  it ;  and  therefore  since  where 
the  treasure  is  there  will  the  heart  be  also,  it  is 
possible  to  keep  the  heart  in  peace  even  among  the 
changes  that  upset  a  purely  superficial  Hfe  with 
earthquake  shocks.  Sincere  as  is  the  lament  of  the 
elegist  over  the  fate  of  his  people,  a  subtle  thread  of 
irony  seems  to  run  through  his  language.  Possibly  it 
is  quite  unconscious  ;  but  if  so  it  is  the  more  significant, 
for  it  is  the  irony  of  fact  which  cannot  be  excluded  by 
the  simplest  method  of  statement.  It  suggests  that  the 
grandeur  which  could  be  so  easily  turned  to  humiliation 
must  have  been  somewhat  tawdry  at  best. 

But  unhappily  the  fall  of  the  pampered  youth  of 
Jerusalem  was  not  confined  to  a  reversal  of  external 
fortune.  The  elegist  has  been  careful  to  point  out  that 
the  miseries  they  endured  were  the  punishments  of 
their  sins.  Then  there  had  been  an  earlier  and  much 
greater  collapse.  Before  any  foreign  enemy  had 
appeared  at  her  gates  the  city  had  succumbed  to  a  fatal 
foe  bred  within  her  own  walls.  Luxury  had  under- 
mined the  vigour  of  the  wealthy ;  vice  had  blackened 
the  beauty  of  the  young.  There  is  a  fine  gold  of 
character  which  will  be  sullied  beyond  recognition  when 
the  foul  vapours  of  the  pit  are  permitted  to  break 
out  upon  it.  The  magnificence  of  Solomon's  temple  is 
poor  and  superficial  in  comparison  with  the  beauty  of 
young  souls  endowed  with  intellectual  and  moral 
gifts,  like  jewels  of  rarest  worth.  Man  is  not  treated 
in  the  Bible  as  a  paltry  creature.  Was  he  not 
made  in  the  image  of  God?  Jesus  would  not  have 
us  despise  our  own  native  worth.  Hope  and  faith 
come  from  a  lofty  view  of  human  nature  and  its  pos- 
sibilities. Souls  are  not  swine ;  and  therefore  by  all 
tlie    measure   of  their  superiority  to   sv/ine  souls    are 


276  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

worth  saving.  The  shame  and  sorrow  of  sin  he  just 
in  this  fact,  that  it  is  so  foul  a  degradation  of  so  fair 
a  thing  as  human  nature.  Here  is  the  contrast  that 
heightens  the  tragedy  of  lost  souls.  But  then  we  may 
add,  in  its  reversal  this  same  contrast  magnifies  the 
glory  of  redemption — from  so  deep  a  pit  does  Christ 
bring  back  His  ransomed,  to  so  great  a  height  does 
He  raise  them  ! 


CHAPTER   XIX 

LEPERS 
iv.  13-16 

PASSING  from  the  fate  of  the  princes  to  that  of  the 
prophets  and  priests,  we  come  upon  a  vividly 
dramatic  scene  in  the  streets  of  Jerusalem  amid  the 
terror  and  confusion  that  precede  the  final  act  of  the 
national-  tragedy.  The  doom  of  the  city  is  attributed 
to  the  crimes  of  her  religious  leaders,  whose  true 
characters  are  now  laid  bare.  The  citizens  shrink  from 
the  guilty  men  with  the  loathing  felt  for  lepers,  and 
shriek  to  them  to  depart,  calling  them  unclean,  and 
warning  them  not  to  touch  any  one  by  the  way,  because 
there  is  blood  upon  them.  Dreading  the  awful  treat- 
ment measured  out  to  the  victims  of  lynch-law,  they 
stagger  through  the  streets  in  a  state  of  bewilderment, 
and  stumble  like  blind  men.  Fugitives  and  vagabonds, 
with  the  mark  of  Cain  upon  them,  driven  out  at  the 
gates  by  the  impatient  mob,  they  can  find  no  refuge 
even  in  foreign  lands,  for  none  of  the  nations  will 
receive  them. 

We  do  not  know  whether  the  poet  is  here  describing 
actual  events,  or  whether  this  is  an  imaginary  picture 
designed  to  express  his  own  feelings  with  regard  to  the 
persons  concerned.  The  situation  is  perfectly  natural, 
and  what  is  narrated  may  very  well  have  happened  just 
277 


278  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


as  it  is  described.  But  if  it  is  not  history  it  is  still 
a  revelation  of  character,  a  representation  of  what  the 
writer  knows  to  be  the  conduct  of  the  moral  lepers,  and 
their  deserts ;  and  as  such  it  is  most  suggestive. 

In  the  "first  place  there  is  much  significance  in  the 
fact  that  the  overthrow  of  Jerusalem  is  unhesitatingly 
charged  to  the  account  of  the  sins  of  her  prophets  and 
priests.  These  once  venerated  men  are  not  merely 
no  longer  protected  by  the  sanctity  of  their  offices  from 
the  accusations  that  are  brought  against  the  laity  ;  they 
are  singled  out  for  a  charge  of  exceptionally  heinous 
wickedness  which  is  regarded  as  the  root  cause  of 
all  the  troubles  that  have  fallen  upon  the  Jews.  The 
second  elegy  had  affirmed  the  failure  of  the  prophets 
and  the  vanity  of  their  visions.-^  This  new  and  stronger 
accusation  reads  like  a  reminiscence  of  Jeremiah,  who 
repeatedly  speaks  of  the  sins  of  the  clerical  class  and 
the  mischief  resulting  therefrom.^  Evidently  the  terrible 
truth  the  prophet  dwelt  upon  so  much  was  felt  by  a  dis- 
ciple of  his  school  to  be  of  the  most  serious  consequence. 

The  accusation  is  of  the  very  gravest  character. 
These  religious  leaders  are  charged  with  murder.  If 
the  elegist  is  recording  historical  occurrences  he  may 
be  alluding  to  riots  in  which  the  feuds  of  rival  factions 
had  issued  in  bloodshed  ;  or  he  may  have  had  infor- 
mation of  private  acts  of  assassination.  His  language 
points  to  a  condition  in  Jerusalem  similar  to  that  which 
was  found  in  Rome  at  the  Fifteenth  Century,  when 
popes  and  cardinals  were  the  greatest  criminals.  The 
crimes  were  aggravated  by  the  fact  that  the  victims 
selected  were  the  "righteous,"  perhaps  men  of  the 
Jeremiah  party,  who  had  been  persecuted  by  the  officials 

'  ii.  9,  14.         -  Jer.  vi.  13;  viii.  10 ;  xxiii.  II,  I4;xxvi.  7ff. 


iv.  13-16.]  LEPERS  279 

of  the  State  religion.  But  quite  apart  from  these  dark  and 
tragic  events,  the  record  of  which  has  not  been  preserved, 
if  the  wicked  pohcy  of  their  clergy  had  brought  down 
on  the  heads  of  the  citizens  of  Jerusalem  the  mass  of 
calamities  that  accompanied  the  siege  of  the  city  by  the 
Babylonians,  this  policy  was  in  itself  a  cause  of  great 
bloodshed.  The  men  who  invited  the  ruin  of  their 
city  were  in  reality  the  murderers  of  all  who  perished 
in  that  calamity.  We  know  from  Jeremiah's  statements 
on  the  subject  that  the  false,  time-serving,  popular 
prophets  were  deceivers  of  the  people,  who  allayed 
alarm  by  means  of  lies,  saying  "peace,  peace;  when 
there  was  no  peace."  ^  When  the  deception  was  dis- 
covered their  angry  dupes  vv^ould  naturally  hold  them 
responsible  for  the  results  of  their  wickedness. 

The  sin  of  these  religious  leaders  of  Israel  consists 
essentially  in  betraying  a  sacred  trust.  The  priest 
is  in  charge  of  the  Torah — traditional  or  written  ;  he 
must  have  been  unfaithful  to  his  law  or  he  could  not 
have  led  his  people  astray.  If  the  prophet's  claims  are 
valid  this  man  is  the  messenger  of  Jehovah,  and  there- 
fore he  must  have  falsified  his  message  in  order  to" 
delude  his  audience ;  if,  however,  he  has  not  himself 
heard  the  Divine  voice  he  is  no  better  than  a  dervish, 
and  in  pretending  to  speak  with  the  authority  of  an 
ambassador  from  heaven  he  is  behaving  as  a  miserable 
charlatan.  In  the  case  now  before  us  the  motive  for 
the  practice  of  deceit  is  very  evident.  It  is  thirst  for 
popularity.  Truth,  right,  God's  will — these  imperial 
authorities  count  for  nothing,  because  the  favour  of  the 
people  is  reckoned  as  everything.  No  doubt  there  are 
times  when  the  temptation  to  descend  to  untruthfulness 

'  Jer.  vi.  14;  viii.  11. 


28o  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

in  the  discharge  of  a  pubHc  function  is  pecuh'arly 
pressing.  When  party  feeling  is  roused,  or  when  a 
mad  panic  has  taken  possession  of  a  community,  it  is 
exceedingly  difficult  to  resist  the  current  and  maintain 
what  one  knows  to  be  right  in  conflict  with  the  popular 
movement.  But  in  its  more  common  occurrence  this 
treachery  cannot  plead  any  such  excuse.  That  truth 
should  be  trampled  under  foot  and  souls  endangered 
merely  to  enable  a  public  speaker  to  refresh  his  vanity 
with  the  music  of  applause  is  about  the  most  despicable 
exhibition  of  selfishness  imaginable.  If  a  man  who  has 
been  set  in  a  place  of  trust  prostitutes  his  privileges 
simply  to  win  admiration  for  his  oratory,  or  at  most  in 
order  to  avoid  the  discomfort  of  unpopularity  or  the 
disappointment  of  neglect,  his  sin  is  unpardonable. 

The  one  form  of  unfaithfulness  on  the  part  of  these 
religious  leaders  of  Israel  of  which  we  are  specially 
informed  is  their  refusal  to  warn  their  reckless  fellow- 
citizens  of  the  approach  of  danger,  or  to  bring  home 
to  their  hearers'  consciences  the  guilt  of  the  sin  for 
which  the  impending  doom  was  the  just  punishment. 
They  are  the  prototypes  of  those  writers  and  preachers 
who  smooth  over  the  unpleasant  facts  of  life.  It  is  not 
easy  for  any  one  to  wear  the  mantle  of  Elijah,  or  echo 
the  stern  desert  voice  of  John  the  Baptist.  Men  who 
covet  popularity  do  not  care  to  be  reckoned  pessimists ; 
and  when  the  gloomy  truth  is  not  flattering  to  their 
hearers  they  are  sorely  tempted  to  pass  on  to  more 
congenial  topics.  This  was  apparent  in  the  Deistic 
optimism  that  almost  stifled  spiritual  life  during  the 
Eighteenth  Century.  Our  age  is  far  from  being 
optimistic  ;  and  yet  the  same  temptation  threatens  to 
smother  religion  to-day.  In  an  aristocratic  age  the 
sycophant  flatters  the  great ;  in  a  democratic  age  he 


iv.  13-16.]  LEPERS  28J 

flatters  the  people — who  are  then  in  fact  the  great. 
The  peculiar  danger  of  our  own  day  is  that  the  preacher 
should  simply  echo  popular  cries,  and  voice  the  demands 
of  the  majority  irrespective  of  the  question  of  their 
justice.  Thrust  into  the  position  of  a  social  leader 
with  more  urgency  than  his  predecessors  of  any  time 
since  the  age  of  the  Hebrew  prophets,  it  is  expected 
that  he  will  lead  whither  the  people  wish  to  go,  and 
if  he  declines  to  do  so  he  is  denounced  as  retrograde. 
And  yet  as  the  messenger  of  Heaven  he  should  con- 
sider it  his  supreme  duty  to  reveal  the  whole  counsel  of 
God,  to  speak  for  truth  and  righteousness,  and  therefore 
to  condemn  the  sins  of  the  democracy  equally  with 
the  sins  of  the  aristocracy.  Brave  labour-leaders  have 
fallen  into  disfavour  for  telling  working-men  that  their 
worst  enemies  were  their  own  vices — such  as  intem- 
perance. The  wickedness  of  a  responsible  teacher 
who  treasonably  neglects  thus  to  warn  his  brethren 
of  danger  is  powerfully  expressed  by  Ezekiel's  clear, 
antithetical  statements  concerning  the  respective  guilt  of 
the  watchman  and  his  fellow-citizen,  which  show  con- 
clusively that  the  greatest  burden  of  blame  must  rest 
on  the  unfaithful  watchman.'^ 

In  the  hour  of  their  exposure  these  wretched  pro- 
phets and  priests  lose  all  sense  of  dignity,  even  lose 
their  self-possession,  and  stumble  about  like  blind  men, 
helpless  and  bewildered.  Their  behaviour  suggests 
the  idea  that  they  must  be  drunk  with  the  blood  they 
have  shed,  or  overcome  by  the  intoxication  of  their 
thirst  for  blood ;  but  the  explanation  is  that  they  cannot 
lift  up  their  heads  to  look  a  neighbour  in  the  face, 
because  all  their  little  devices  have  been  torn  to  shreds, 

'  Ezek.  iii.  16-21. 


282  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


all  their  specious  lies  detected,  all  their  empty  promises 
falsified.  This  shame  of  dethroned  popularity  is  the 
greatest  humiliation.  The  unhappy  man  who  has 
brought  himself  to  live  on  the  breath  of  fame  cannot 
hide  his  fall  in  oblivion  and  obscurity  as  a  private 
person  may  do.  Standing  in  the  full  blaze  of  the  world's 
observation  which  he  has  so  eagerly  focussed  on  him- 
self, he  has  no  alternative  but  to  exchange  the  glory 
of  popularity  for  the  ignominy  of  notoriety. 

Possibly  the  confusion  consequent  on  their  exposure 
is  all  that  the  poet  is  thinking  of  when  he  depicts  the 
blind  staggering  of  the  prophets  and  priests.  But  it 
is  not  unreasonable  to  take  this  picture  as  an  illustration 
of  their  moral  condition,  especially  after  the  references 
to  the  faults  of  the  prophets  in  the  second  elegy  have 
directed  our  attention  to  their  spiritual  darkness  and 
the  vanity  of  their  visions.  When  the  refuge  of  lies 
in  which  they  had  trusted  was  swept  away  they  would 
necessarily  find  themselves  lost  and  helpless.  They 
had  so  long  worshipped  falsehood,  it  had  become  so 
much  their  god  that  we  might  say,  in  it  they  had  lived, 
and  moved,  and  had  their  being.  But  now  they  have 
lost  the. very  atmosphere  of  their  lives.  This  is  the 
penalty  of  deceit.  The  man  who  begins  by  using  it 
as  his  tool  becomes  in  time  its  victim.  At  first  he  lies 
with  his  eyes  open  ;  but  the  sure  effect  of  this  conduct 
is  that  his  sight  becomes  dim  and  blurred,  till,  if  he 
persist  in  the  fatal  course  long  enough,  he  is  ultimately 
reduced  to  a  condition  of  blindness.  By  continually 
mixing  truth  and  falsehood  together  he  loses  the  power 
of  distinguishing  between  them.  It  may  be  supposed 
that  at  an  earUer  stage  of  their  decline,  if  the  religious 
leaders  of  Israel  had  been  honest  with  regard  to  their 
own  convictions  they  must  have  admitted  the  possible 


iv.  13-16.]  LEPERS  283 

genuineness  of  those  prophets  of  ruin  whom  they  had 
persecuted  in  deference  to  popular  clamour.  But  they 
had  rejected  all  such  unwelcome  thoughts  so  persistently 
that  in  course  of  time  they  had  lost  the  perception  of 
them.  Therefore  when  the  truth  was  flashed  upon 
their  unwilling  minds  by  the  unquestionable  revelation 
of  events  they  were  as  helpless  as  bats  and  owls 
suddenly  driven  out  into  the  daylight  by  an  earthquake 
that  has  flung  down  the  crumbling  ruins  in  which  they 
had  been  sheltering  themselves. 

The  discovery  of  the  true  character  of  these  men  was 
the  signal  for  a  yell  of  execration  on  the  part  of  the 
people  by  flattering  whom  they  had  obtained  their  liveli- 
hood, or  at  least  all  that  they  most  valued  in  life.  This 
too  must  have  been  another  shock  of  surprise  to  them. 
Had  they  believed  in  the  essential  fickleness  of  popular 
favour,  they  would  never  have  built  their  hopes  upon 
so  precarious  a  foundation,  for  they  might  as  well  have 
set  up  their  dwelling  on  the  strand  that  would  be 
flooded  at  the  next  turn  of  the  tide.  History  is  strewn 
with  the  wreckage  of  fallen  popular  reputations  of  all 
degrees  of  merit,  from  that  of  the  conscientious 
martyr  who  had  always  looked  to  higher  ends  than  the 
applause  which  once  encircled  him,  to  that  of  the 
frivolous  child  of  fortune  who  had  known  of  nothing 
better  than  the  world's  empty  admiration.  We  see  this 
both  in  Savonarola  martyred  at  the  stake  and  in  Beau 
Nash  starved  in  a  garret.  There  is  no  more  pathetic 
scene  to  be  gathered  from  the  story  of  religion  in  the 
present  century  than  that  of  Edward  Irving,  once  the 
idol  of  society,  subsequently  deserted  by  fashion, 
stationing  himself  at  a  street  corner  to  proclaim  his 
message  to  a  chance  congregation  of  idlers  ;  and  his 
mistake   was    that    of  an    honest  man  who   had  been 


284  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

misled  by  a  delusion.  Incomparably  worse  is  the  fate 
of  the  fallen  favourite  who  has  no  honesty  of  conviction 
with  which  to  comfort  himself  when  frowned  at  by  the 
heartless  world  that  had  recently  fawned  upon  him. 

The  Jews  show  their  disgust  and  horror  for  their 
former  leaders  by  pelting  them  with  the  leper  call. 
According  to  the  law  the  leper  must  go  with  rent 
clothes  and  flowing  hair,  and  his  face  partly  covered, 
crying,  "  Unclean,  unclean."  ^  It  is  evident  that  the 
poet  has  this  familiar  mournful  cry  in  his  mind  when 
he  describes  the  treatment  of  the  prophets  and  priests. 
And  yet  there  is  a  difference.  The  leper  is  to  utter  the 
humiliating  word  himself;  but  in  the  case  now  before 
us  it  is  flung  after  the  outcast  leaders  by  their  pitiless 
fellow-citizens.  The  alteration  is  not  without  signifi- 
cance. The  miserable  victim  of  bodily  disease  could 
not  hope  to  disguise  his  condition.  "  White  as  snow," 
his  well-known  complaint  was  patent  to  every  eye. 
But  it  is  otherwise  with  the  spiritual  leprosy,  sin. 
For  a  time  it  may  be  disguised,  a  hidden  fire  in  the 
breast.  When  it  is  evident  to  others,  too  often  the 
last  man  to  perceive  it  is  the  offender  himself;  and 
when  he  himself  is  inwardly  conscious  of  guilt  he  is 
tempted  to  wear  a  cloak  of  denial  before  the  world. 
More  especially  is  this  the  case  with  one  who  has  been 
accustomed  to  make  a  profession  of  religion,  and  most 
of  all  with  a  religious  leader.  While  the  publican  who 
has  no  character  to  sustain  will  smite  his  breast  with 
self-reproaches  and  cry  for  mercy,  the  professional 
saint  is  blind  to  his  own  sins,  partly  no  doubt  because 
to  admit  their  existence  would  be  to  shatter  his 
profession. 

'  Lev.  xiii.  45. 


IV.  13-16.]  LEPERS  285 

But  if  the  religious  leader  is  slow  to  confess  or  even 
perceive  his  guilt,  the  world  is  keen  to  detect  it  and 
swift  to  cast  it  in  his  teeth.  There  is  nothing  that 
excites  so  much  loathing  ;  and  justly  so,  for  there  is 
nothing  that  does  so  much  harm.  Such  conduct  is  the 
chief  provocative  of  practical  scepticism.  It  matters 
not  that  the  logic  is  unsound  ;  men  will  draw  rough 
and  ready  conclusions.  If  the  leaders  are  corrupt  the 
hasty  inference  is  that  the  cause  which  is  identified 
with  their  names  must  also  be  corrupt.  Religion  suffers 
more  from  the  hypocrisy  of  some  of  her  avowed 
champions  than  from  the  attacks  of  all  the  hosts  of 
her  pronounced  foes.  Accordingly  a  righteous  indigna- 
tion assails  those  who  work  such  deadly  mischief 
But  less  commendable  motives  urge  men  in  the  same 
direction.  Evil  itself  steals  a  triumph  over  good  in  the 
downfall  of  its  counterfeit.  If  they  knew  themselves 
there  must  have  been  some  hypocrisy  on  the  side  of 
the  persecutors  in  the  demonstrative  zeal  with  which 
they  hounded  to  death  the  once  pampered  children  of 
fortune  the  moment  they  had  fallen  from  the  pedestal  of 
respectability ;  for  could  these  indignant  champions  of 
virtue  deny  that  they  had  been  willing  accomplices  in  the 
deeds  they  so  loudly  denounced  ?  or  at  least  that  they 
had  not  been  reluctant  to  be  pleasantly  deceived,  had 
not  enquired  too  nicely  into  the  credentials  of  the 
flatterers  who  had  spoken  smooth  things  to  them  ? 
Considering  what  their  own  conduct  had  been,  their 
eagerness  in  execrating  the  wickedness  of  their  leaders 
was  almost  indecent.  There  is  a  Pecksniffian  air  about 
it.  It  suggests  a  sly  hope  that  by  thus  placing  them- 
selves on  the  side  of  outraged  virtue  they  were  putting 
their  own  characters  beyond  the  suspicion  of  criticism. 
They  seem  to  have  been  too  eager  to  make  scapegoats  of 


286  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OE  JEREMIAH 

their  clergy.  Their  action  appears  to  show  that  they  had 
some  idea  that  even  at  the  eleventh  hour  the  city  might 
be  spared  if  it  were  rid  of  this  plague  of  the  blood-stained 
prophets  and  priests.  And  yet  however  various  and 
questionable  the  motives  of  the  assailants  may  have 
been,  there  is  no  escape  from  the  conclusion  that  the 
wickedness  they  denounced  so  eagerly  richly  deserved 
the  most  severe  condemnation.  Wherever  we  meet 
with  it,  this  is  the  leprosy  of  society.  Disguised  for 
a  time,  a  secret  canker  in  the  breast  of  unsuspected 
men,  it  is  certain  to  break  out  at  length ;  and  when  it 
is  discovered  it  merits  a  measure  of  indignation  propor- 
tionate to  the  previous  deception. 

Exile  is  the  doom  of  these  guilty  prophets  and  priests. 
But  even  in  their  banishment  they  can  find  no  place  of 
rest.  They  wander  from  one  foreign  nation  to  another ; 
they  are  permitted  to  stay  with  none  of  them.  Unlike 
our  English  pretenders  who  were  allowed  to  take  up 
their  abode  among  the  enemies  of  their  country,  these 
Jews  were  suspected  and  disliked  wherever  they  went. 
They  had  been  unfaithful  to  Jehovah ;  yet  they  could 
not  proclaim  themselves  devotees  of  Baal.  The  heathen 
were  not  prepared  to  draw  fine  distinctions  between 
the  various  factions  in  the  Israelite  camp.  The  world 
only  scoffs  at  the  quarrels  of  the  sects.  Moreover, 
these  false,  worthless  leaders  had  been  the  zealots  of 
national  feeling  in  the  old  boastful  days  when  Jeremiah 
had  been  denounced  by  their  party  as  a  traitor.  Then 
they  had  been  the  most  exclusive  of  the  Jews.  As 
they  had  made  their  bed  so  must  they  lie  on  it.  The 
poet  suggests  no  term  to  this  melancholy  fate.  Per- 
haps while  he  was  writing  his  elegy  the  wretched  men 
were  to  his  own  knowledge  still  journeying  v/earily  from 
place  to  place.     Thus  hke  the  fratricide  Cain,  like  the 


iv.  13-16.]  LEPERS  287 

wandering  Jew  of  mediaeval  legend,  the  fallen  leaders 
of  the  religion  of  Israel  find  their  punishment  in  a 
doom  of  perpetual  homelessness.  Is  it  too  severe  a 
penalty  for  the  fatal  deceit  that  wrought  death,  and  so 
was  equivalent  to  murder  of  the  worst  sort,  cold-blooded, 
deliberate  murder  ?  There  is  a  perfectly  Dantesque 
appropriateness  in  it.  The  Inferno  of  the  popularity- 
mongers  is  a  homeless  desert  of  unpopularity.  Quiet, 
retiring  souls  and  dreamy  lovers  of  nature  might  derive 
rest  and  refreshment  from  a  hermit  life  in  the  wilder- 
ness. Not  so  these  slaves  of  society.  Deprived  of  the 
support  of  their  surrounding  element — like  jelly-fish 
flung  on  to  the  beach  to  shrivel  up  and  perish — in 
banishment  from  city  life  such  men  must  experience 
a  total  collapse.  Just  in  proportion  to  the  hollowness 
and  unreality  with  which  a  man  has  made  the  pursuit 
of  the  world's  applause  the  chief  object  of  his  life,  is 
the  dismal  fate  he  will  have  to  endure  when,  having 
sown  the  wind  of  vanity,  he  reaps  the  whirlwind  of 
indignation.  The  ill-will  of  his  fellow-men  is  hard  to 
bear;  but  behind  it  is  the  far  more  terrible  wrath  of 
God,  whose  judgment  the  miserable  time-server  has 
totally  ignored  while  sedulously  cultivating  the  favour 
of  the  world. 


CHAPTER   XX 

VAIN  HOPES 
iv.  17-20 

THE  first  part  of  the  fourth  elegy  was  specially 
concerned  with  the  fate  of  the  gilded  youth  of 
Jerusalem ;  the  second  and  closely  parallel  part  with 
that  of  the  princes ;  the  third  introduced  us  to  the 
dramatic  scene  in  which  the  fallen  priests  and  prophets 
were  portrayed ;  now  in  the  fourth  part  of  the  elegy 
the  king  and  his  courtiers  are  the  prominent  figures. 
While  all  the  rest  of  the  poem  is  written  in  the  third 
person,  this  short  section  is  composed  in  the  first 
person  plural.  The  arrangement  is  not  exactly  like 
that  of  the  third  elegy,  in  which,  after  speaking  in  his 
own  person,  the  poet  appears  as  the  representative  and 
spokesman  of  his  people.  The  more  simple  form  of 
the  composition  now  under  consideration  would  lead 
us  to  suppose  that  the  pronoun  "we"  comes  in  for 
the  most  natural  reason — viz.,  because  the  writer  was 
himself  an  actor  in  the  scene  which  he  here  describes. 
We  must  conclude,  then,  that  he  was  one  of  the  group 
of  Zedekiah's  personal  attendants,  or  at  least  a  member 
of  a  company  of  Jews  which  escaped  at  the  time  of  the 
royal  flight  and  took  the  same  road  when  the  citizens 
were  scattered  by  the  sack  of  the  city. 

The  picture,  however,  is  somewhat  idealised.     Events 
that  could   only   have    taken    place    in    succession    are 
288 


iv.  17-28.]  VAIN  HOPES  2S9 

described  as  though  they  were  all  occurring  in  the 
present.  We  have  first  the  anxious  watching  of  the 
besieged  for  the  advent  of  an  army  of  relief;  then 
the  chase  of  their  victims  through  the  streets  by  the 
invaders — which  must  have  been  after  they  had  broken 
into  the  city;  next  the  flight  and  pursuit  over  the 
mountains ;  and  lastly,  the  capture  of  the  king.  This 
setting  of  a  succession  of  events  in  one  scene  as  though 
they  were  contemporaneous  is  so  far  an  imaginary 
arrangement  that  we  must  be  on  our  guard  against  a 
too  literal  interpretation  of  the  details.  Evidently  we 
have  here  a  poetic  picture,  not  the  bare  deposition  of 
a  witness. 

The  burden  of  the  passage  is  the  grievous  disappoint- 
ment of  the  court  party  at  the  failure  of  their  fond 
hopes.  But  Jeremiah  was  directly  opposed  to  that 
party,  and  though  our  author  was  not  the  great  pro- 
phet himself  we  have  abundant  evidence  that  he  was 
a  faithful  disciple  who  echoed  the  very  thoughts  and 
shared  the  deepest  convictions  of  his  master.  Hov/ 
then  can  he  now  appear  as  one  of  the  court  party  ? 
It  is  just  possible  that  he  was  no  friend  of  Jeremiah 
at  the  time  he  is  now  describing.  He  may  have  been 
converted  subsequently  by  the  logic  of  facts,  or  by  the 
more  potent  influence  of  the  discipline  of  adversit}^,  a 
possibility  which  would  give  peculiar  significance  to 
the  personal  confessions  contained  in  the  previous 
elegy,  with  its  account  of  "  the  man  who  had  seen 
affliction."  But  the  poetic  form  of  the  section  dealing 
with  the  court,  and  the  fact  that  all  it  describes  is 
expressed  in  the  present  tense,  prevent  us  from  pressing 
this  conjecture  to  a  definite  conclusion.  It  would  be 
enough  if  we  could  suppose,  as  there  is  no  difficulty 
in  doing,  that  in  the  general  confusion  our  poet  found 

19 


290  THE  LAMENTATIONS    OF  JEREMIAH 

himself  in  unexpected  companionship  with  the  flying 
court.     Thus  he  would  witness  their  experiences. 

We  have,  then,  in  this  place  an  expression  of  the 
attitude  of  the  court  party  in  the  midst  of  the  great 
calamities  that  have  overtaken  them.  It  is  emphatically 
one  of  profound  disappointment.  These  deluded  people 
had  been  sanguine  to  the  last,  and  proudly  sceptical 
of  danger,  with  an  infatuation  almost  amounting  to 
insanity  which  had  blinded  them  to  the  palpable  lessons 
of  defeats  already  endured — for  we  must  not  forget 
that  Jerusalem  had  been  taken  twice  before  this. 
Naturally  their  disappointment  was  proportionate  to 
their  previous  elation. 

The  hopes  that  had  been  thus  rudely  dashed  to  the 
ground  had  been  based  on  a  feeling  of  the  sacred 
inviolability  of  Jerusalem.  This  feeling  had  been 
sedulously  nurtured  by  a  bastard  form  of  religion. 
Like  the  worship  of  Rome  in  Virgil's  day,  a  sort  of  cult 
of  Jerusalem  had  now  grown  up.  Men  who  had  no  faith 
in  Jehovah  put  their  trust  in  Jerusalem.  The  starting- 
point  and  excuse  of  this  singular  creed  are  to  be  traced 
to  the  deep-rooted  conviction  of  the  Jews  that  their 
city  was  the  chosen  favourite  of  Jehovah,  and  that 
therefore  her  God  would  certainly  protect  her.  But 
this  idea  was  treated  most  inconsistently  when  people 
coolly  ignored  the  Divine  will  while  boldly  claiming 
Divine  favour.  In  course  of  time  even  that  position 
was  abandoned,  and  Jerusalem  became  practically  a 
fetich.  Then,  while  faith  in  the  destiny  of  the  city 
vv^as  cherished  as  a  superstition,  prophets  such  as 
Jeremiah,  who  directed  men's  thoughts  to  God,  were 
silenced  and  persecuted.  This  folly  of  the  Jews  has  its 
counterpart  in  the  exaltation  of  the  papacy  during  the 
Middle  Ages.     The  Pope  claimed  to  be  seated  on  his 


iv.  17-28.]  VAIN  HOPES  291 


throne  by  the  authority  of  Christ ;  but  the  papacy  was 
really  put  in  the  place  of  Christ.  Similarly  people 
who  trust  in  the  Church,  their  City  of  God,  rather 
than  in  her  Lord,  have  fallen  into  an  error  like  that 
of  the  Jews,  who  put  confidence  in  their  city  rather 
than  in  their  God.  So  have  those  who  confide  in  their 
own  election  instead  of  looking  to  the  Divine  Sovereign 
who,  they  declare,  has  named  them  in  His  eternal 
decrees ;  and  those  again  who  set  reliance  on  their 
religion,  its  rites  and  creeds ;  and  lastly,  those  who 
trust  in  their  very  faith  as  itself  a  saving  power.  In 
all  these  cases,  the  city,  the  Pope,  the  election,  the 
Church,  the  religion,  the  faith  are  simply  idols,  no  more 
able  to  protect  the  superstitious  people  who  put  them 
in  the  place  of  God  than  the  ark  that  was  captured  in 
battle  when  the  Jews  tried  to  use  it  as  a  talisman,  or 
even  the  fish-god  Dagon  that  lay  shattered  before  it  in 
the  Philistine  temple. 

But  now  we  find  the  old-established  faith  in  Jeru- 
salem so  far  undermined  that  it  has  to  be  supplemented 
by  other  grounds  of  hope.  In  particular  there  are  two 
of  these — the  king  and  a  foreign  ally.  The  ally  is 
mentioned  first  because  the  poet  starts  from  the  time 
when  men  still  hoped  that  the  Egyptians  would  espouse 
the  cause  of  Israel,  and  come  to  the  help  of  the 
little  kingdom  against  the  hosts  of  Babylon.  There 
was  much  to  be  said  in  favour  of  this  expectation. 
In  the  past  Egypt  had  been  in  alliance  with  the 
people  now  threatened.  The  two  great  kingdoms  of 
the  Nile  and  the  Euphrates  were  rivals;  and  the 
aggressive  policy  of  Babylon  had  brought  her  into 
conflict  with  Egypt.  The  Pharaohs  might  be  glad  to 
have  Israel  preserved  as  a  "  bufl:er  state."  Indeed, 
negotiations  had  been  carried  on  with  that  end  in  view. 


292  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

Nevertheless  the  dreams  of  deliverance  built  on  this 
foundation  were  doomed  to  disappointment.  The  poet 
shows  us  the  anxious  Jews  on  their  city  towers  strain- 
ing their  eyes  till  they  are  weary  in  watching  for  the 
relief  that  never  comes.  They  could  look  down  through 
the  gap  in  the  hills  towards  Bethlehem  and  the  south 
country,  and  the  dust  of  an  army  would  be  visible  from 
afar  in  the  clear  Syrian  atmosphere ;  but,  alas  I  no 
distant  cloud  promises  the  approach  of  the  deliverer. 
We  are  reminded  of  the  siege  of  Lucknow ;  but  in 
the  hour  of  the  Jews'  great  need  there  is  no  sign 
corresponding  to  the  welcome  music  of  the  Scotch  air 
that  ravished  the  ears  of  the  British  garrison. 

Faithful  prophets  had  repeatedly  warned  the  Jews 
against  this  false  ground  of  hope.  In  a  former  genera- 
tion Isaiah  had  cautioned  his  contemporaries  not  to 
lean  on  "  this  broken  reed "  ^  Egypt ;  and  at  the 
present  crisis  Jeremiah  had  followed  with  similar 
advice,  predicting  the  failure  of  the  Egyptian  alliance, 
and  replying  to  the  messengers  of  Zedekiah  who  had 
come  to  soHcit  the  prophet's  prayers  :  "  Thus  saith  the 
Lord,  the  God  of  Israel :  Thus  shall  ye  say  to  the  king 
of  Judah,  that  sent  you  unto  me  to  enquire  of  me  ; 
Behold,  Pharaoh's  army,  which  is  come  forth  to  help 
you,  shall  return  to  Egypt  into  their  own  land.  And 
the  Chaldaeans  shall  come  again,  and  fight  against  this 
city ;  and  they  shall  take  it,  and  burn  it  with  fire."  "^ 
Though  regarded  at  the  time  as  unpatriotic  and  even 
treasonable,  this  advice  proved  to  be  sound,  and  the 
predictions  of  the  messenger  of  Jehovah  correct.  Now 
that  we  can  read  the  events  in  the  light  of  history  we 
have  no  difficulty  in  perceiving  that  even  as  a  matter 

'  Isa.  xxxvi.  6.  '^  Jer.  xxxvii.  7,  8. 


iv.  17-28.]  VAIN   HOPES  293 


of  State  policy  the  counsel  of  Isaiah  and  Jeremiah  was 
wise  and  statesmanlike.  Babylon  was  quite  irresistible. 
Even  Egypt  could  not  stand  against  the  powerful  empire 
that  was  making  itself  master  of  the  world.  Besides, 
alliance  with  Egypt  involved  the  loss  of  liberty,  for  it 
had  to  be  paid  for,  and  the  weak  ally  of  a  great  kingdom 
was  no  better  than  a  tributary  state.  Meanwhile  Israel 
was  embroiled  in  quarrels  from  which  she  should  have 
tried,  as  far  as  possible,  to  keep  herself  aloof 

But  the  prophets  shewed  that  deeper  questions  than 
such  as  concern  political  diplomacy  were  at  stake.  In 
happier  days  the  arm  of  Providence  had  been  laid  bare, 
and  Jerusalem  saved  without  a  blow,  when  the  destroy- 
ing angel  of  pestilence  swept  through  the  Assyrian  host. 
It  is  true  Jerusalem  had  to  submit  soon  after  this ;  but 
the  lesson  was  being  taught  that  her  safety  really  con- 
sisted in  submission.  This  was  the  kernel  of  Jeremiah's 
unpopular  message.  Historically  and  politically  that 
too  was  justified.  It  was  useless  to  attempt  to  stem 
the  tide  of  one  of  the  awful  marches  of  a  world-con- 
quering army.  Only  the  obstinacy  of  a  fanatical 
patriotism  could  have  led  the  Jews  of  this  period  to 
hold  out  so  long  against  the  might  of  Babylon,  just 
as  the  very  same  obstinacy  encouraged  their  mad 
descendants  in  the  days  of  Titus  to  resist  the  arms 
of  Rome.  But  then  the  prophets  were  constantly 
preaching  to  heedless  ears  that  there  was  real  safety 
in  submission,  that  a  humble  measure  of  escape  was  to 
be  had  by  simply  complying  with  the  demands  of  the 
irresistible  conquerors.  Proud  patriots  might  despise 
this  consolation,  preferring  to  die  fighting.  But  that  was 
scarcely  the  case  with  the  fugitives  ;  these  people  had 
neither  the  relief  that  is  the  reward  of  a  quiet  surrender, 
nor  the  glory  that  accompanies  death  on  the  battle-field. 


294  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

To  those  who  could  hear  the  deeper  notes  of  prophetic 
teaching  the  safety  of  surrender  meant  a  much  more 
valuable  boon.  The  submission  recommended  was 
not  merely  to  be  directed  to  King  Nebuchadnezzar ; 
primarily  it  consisted  in  yielding  to  the  will  of  God. 
People  who  will  not  turn  to  this  one  true  refuge  from 
all  danger  and  trouble  are  tempted  to  substitute  a 
variety  of  vain  hopes.  Most  of  us  have  our  Egypt  to 
which  we  look  when  the  vision  of  God  has  become  dim 
in  the  soul.  The  worldly  cynicism  that  echoes  and 
degrades  the  words  of  the  Preacher,  "  Vanity  of 
vanities ;  all  is  vanity,"  is  really  the  product  of  the 
decay  of  dead  hopes.  It  would  not  be  so  sour  if  it 
had  not  been  disappointed.  Yet  so  persistent  is  the 
habit  of  castle-building,  that  the  cloudland  in  which 
many  previous  structures  of  fancy  have  melted  away  is 
resorted  to  again  and  again  by  an  eager  throng  of  fresh 
aerial  architects.  After  experience  has  confirmed  the 
warning  that  riches  take  to  themselves  wings  and  flee 
away,  and  in  face  of  our  Lord's  advice  not  to  lay  up 
treasures  where  thieves  break  through .  and  steal,  and 
where  moth  and  rust  consume,  we  see  men  as  eager  as 
ever  to  scrape  wealth  together,  as  ready  to  put  all  their 
trust  in  it  when  it  has  come  to  them,  as  astonished  and 
dismayed  when  it  has  failed  them.  Ambition  was  long 
ago  proved  to  be  a  frail  bubble ;  yet  ambition  never 
wants  for  slaves.  The  cup  of  pleasure  has  been  drained 
so  often  that  the  world  should  know  by  this  time  how 
very  nauseous  its  dregs  are ;  and  still  feverish  hands 
are  held  out  to  grasp  it. 

Now  this  obstinate  disregard  of  the  repeated  lessons 
of  experience  is  too  remarkable  a  habit  of  life  to  be 
reckoned  as  a  mere  accident.  There  must  be  some 
adequate  causes  to  account  for  it.     In  the  first  place, 


iv.  17-28.]  VAIN  HOPES  295 

it  testifies  with  singular  force  to  the  vitahty  of  what  we 
may  call  the  faculty  of  hope  itself.  Disappointment 
does  not  kill  the  tendency  to  reach  forth  to  the  future, 
because  this  tendency  comes  from  within,  and  is  not 
a  mere  response  to  impressions.  In  persons  of  a 
sanguine  temperament  this  may  be  taken  to  be  a  con- 
stitutional peculiarity ;  but  it  is  too  widespread  to  be 
disposed  of  as  nothing  more  than  a  freak  of  nature. 
It  is  rather  to  be  considered  an  instinct,  and  as  such  a 
part  of  the  original  constitution  of  man.  How  then 
has  it  come  to  be  ?  Must  we  not  attribute  the  native 
hopefulness  of  mankind  to  the  deliberate  will  and  pur- 
pose of  the  Creator  ?  But  in  that  case  must  we  not 
say  of  this,  as  we  can  say  with  certainty  of  most  natural 
instincts  :  He  who  has  given  the  hunger  will  also 
supply  the  food  with  which  to  satisfy  it?  To  reject 
that  conclusion  is  to  land  ourselves  in  a  form  of 
pessimism  that  is  next  door  to  atheism.  Schopenhauer 
rests  the  argument  by  means  of  which  he  thinks  to 
establish  a  pessimistic  view  of  the  universe  largely  on 
the  delusiveness  of  natural  instincts  which  promise  a 
satisfaction  never  attained  ;  but  in  reasoning  in  this 
way  he  is  compelled  to  describe  the  supreme  Will  that 
he  believes  to  be  the  ultimate  principle  of  all  things  as 
a  non-moral  power.  The  mockery  of  human  existence 
to  which  his  philosophy  reduces  us  is  impossible  in 
view  of  the  Fatherhood  of  God  revealed  to  us  in  Jesus 
Christ.  Shelley,  contrasting  our  fears  and  disappoint- 
ments with  the  "  clear  keen  joyance  "  of  the  skylark, 
bewails  the  fact  that 

"We  Ipok  before  and  after, 
And  pine  for  what  is  not." 

If  this  is  the  end  of  the  matter,  evolution  is  a  mocking 


2,6  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

progress,  for  it  leads  to  the  pit  of  despair.  If  the  large 
vision  that  takes  in  past  and  future  only  brings  sorrow, 
it  would  have  been  better  for  us  to  have  retained  the 
limited  range  of  animal  perceptions.  But  faith  sees  in 
the  very  experience  of  disappointment  a  ground  for 
fresh  hope.  The  discovery  that  the  height  already 
attained  is  not  the  summit  of  the  mountain,  although 
it  appeared  to  be  when  viewed  from  the  plain,  is  a 
proof  that  the  summit  is  higher  than  we  had  supposed. 
Meanwhile,  the  awakening  of  desires  for  further  climbing 
is  a  sign  that  the  disappointments  we  have  experienced 
hitherto  are  not  occasions  for  despair.  If,  as  Shelley 
goes  on  to  say — 

"  Our  sweetest  songs  are  those  that  tell  of  saddest  thought," 

the  sadness  cannot  be  without  mitigation,  for  there 
must  be  an  element  of  sweetness  in  it  from  the  first ; 
and  if  so  this  must  point  to  a  future  when  this  sadness 
itself  shall  pass  away.  The  author  of  the  Epistle  to 
the  Hebrews  argues  on  these  lines  when  he  draws  the 
conclusion  from  the  repeated  disappointments  of  the 
hopes  of  Israel  in  conjunction  with  the  repeated  promises 
of  God  that  ''  there  remaineth  therefore  a  rest  for  the 
people  of  God."  ^  Instincts  are  God's  promises  written 
in  the  Book  of  Nature.  Seeing  that  our  deepest  instincts 
are  not  satisfied  by  any  of  the  common  experiences  of 
life,  they  must  point  to  some  higher  satisfaction. 

Here  we  are  brought  to  the  explanation  of  the  dis- 
appointment itself.  We  must  confess,  in  the  first  in- 
stance, that  it  arises  from  the  perverse  habit  of  looking 
for  satisfaction  in  objects  that  are  too  low,  objects  that 
are   unworthy  of  human   nature.     This   is   one  of  the 

'  Hcb.  iv.  9. 


IV.  17-28.]  VAIN  HOPES  297 


strongest  evidences  of  a  fall.  The  more  mind  and 
heart  are  corrupted  by  sin  the  more  will  hope  be 
dragged  down  to  inferior  things.  But  the  story  does 
not  end  at  this  point.  God  is  educating  us  through 
illusions.  If  all  our  aspirations  were  fulfilled  on  earth 
we  should  cease  to  hope  for  what  was  higher  than  earth. 
Hope  is  purged  and  elevated  by  the  discovery  of  the 
vanity  of  its  pursuits. 

These  considerations  will  be  confirmed  when  we 
follow  the  elegist  in  his  treatment  of  the  disappointment 
of  the  second  ground  of  hope,  that  which  was  found 
in  the  royalist's  confidence  in  his  sovereign.  The  poetic 
account  of  the  events  which  ended  in  the  capture  of 
Zedekiah  seems  to  consist  in  a  blending  of  metaphor 
with  history.  The  image  of  the  chase  underlies  the 
whole  description.  It  has  been  pointed  out  that  with 
the  narrowness  of  eastern  streets  and  the  simplicity  of 
the  weapons  of  ancient  warfare,  it  would  be  impossible 
for  the  Chaldaeans  to  pick  out  their  victims  and  shoot 
them  down  from  outside  the  walls.  But  when  they 
had  effected  an  entrance  they  would  not  simply  make 
the  streets  dangerous,  for  then  they  would  be  breaking 
into  the  houses  where  the  people  are  here  supposed 
to  be  hiding.  The  language  seems  more  fit  for  the 
description  of  a  faction  fight,  such  as  often  occurred  in 
Paris  at  the  time  of  the  French  Revolution,  than  an 
account  of  the  sack  of  a  city  by  a  foreign  enemy.  But 
the  hunting  image  is  in  the  poet's  mind,  and  the  whole 
picture  is  coloured  by  it.  After  the  siege  the  fugi- 
tives are  pursued  over  the  mountains.  Taking  the 
route  across  the  Mount  of  Olives  and  so  down  to  the 
Jordan,  that  which ,  David  had  followed  in  his  flight 
from  Absalom,  they  would  soon  find  themselves  in  a 
difficult  wilderness   country.     Tiiey  had    despaired  of 


298  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


their  lives  in  the  city,  exclaiming :  ''  Our  end  is  near, 
our  days  are  fulfilled ;  for  our  end  is  come."  ^  Now 
they  are  in  sore  extremities.  The  swift  pursuit  suggests 
Jeremiah's  image  of  the  eagles  on  the  wing  overtaking 
their  quarry.  "Behold,  he  shall  come  up  as  clouds," 
said  the  prophet,  "and  his  chariots  shall  be  as  the 
whirlwind  ;  his  horses  are  swifter  than  eagles."  ^  There 
was  no  possibility  of  escape  from  such  persistent  foes. 
At  the  same  time,  ambuscades  were  in  waiting  among 
the  many  caves  that  honeycomb  these  limestone  moun- 
tains— in  the  district  where  the  traveller  in  the  parable 
of  "  The  good  Samaritan  "  fell  among  thieves.  The  king 
himself  was  taken  like  a  hunted  animal  caught  in  a 
trap,  though,  as  we  learn  from  the  history,  not  till 
he  had  reached  Jericho.^ 

The  language  in  which  Zedekiah  is  described  is 
singularly  strong.  He  is  "  the  breath  of  our  nostrils, 
the  anointed  of  the  Lord."  The  hope  of  the  fugitives 
had  been  "  to  live  under  his  shadow  among  the 
nations."  *  It  is  startling  to  find  such  words  applied  to 
so  weak  and  worthless  a  ruler.  It  cannot  be  the  ex- 
pression of  sycophancy ;  for  the  king  and  his  kingdom 
had  disappeared  before  the  elegy  was  written.  Zede- 
kiah was  not  so  bad  as  some  of  his  predecessors.  Like 
Louis  XVI.,  he  reaped  the  long  accumulating  retri- 
bution of  the  sins  of  his  ancestors.  Yet  after  making 
due  allowance  for  the  exuberance  of  the  Oriental  style, 
we  must  feel  that  the  language  is  out  of  proportion  to 
the  possibilities  of  the  most  courtly  devotion  of  the 
time.  Evidently  the  kingly  idea  means  more  than  the 
prosaic  personality  of  any  particular  monarch.  The 
romantic  enthusiasm   of  Cavaliers  and   Nonjurors   for 

'  iv.   l8.  ^  2  Kings  xxv.  4,  5;  Jer.  xxxix.  4,  5. 

^  Jer.  iv.  13.  *  iv.  20. 


iv.  17-28.]  VAIN  HOPES  299 

the  Stuarts  was  not  to  be  accounted  for  by  the  merits 
and  attractions  of  the  various  successive  sovereigns 
and  pretenders  towards  whom  it  was  directed.  The 
doctrine  of  the  Divine  right  of  kings  is  always  associ- 
ated with  vague  thoughts  of  power  and  glory  that  are 
never  realised  in  history.  This  is  most  strikingly 
evident  in  the  Hebrew  conception  of  the  status  and 
destiny  of  the  line  of  David.  But  in  that  one  supreme 
case  of  devotion  to  royalty  the  dream  of  the  ages  ulti- 
mately came  to  be  fulfilled,  and  more  than  fulfilled, 
though  in  a  very  different  manner  from  the  anticipation 
of  the  Jews.  There  is  something  pathetic  in  the  last 
shred  of  hope  to  which  the  fugitives  were  clinging. 
They  had  lost  their  homes,  their  city,  their  land  ;  yet 
even  in  exile  they  |clung  to  the  idea  that  they  might 
keep  together  under  the  protection  of  their  fallen  king. 
It  was  a  delusion.  But  the  strange  faith  in  the  destiny 
of  the  Davidic  line  that  here  passes  into  fanaticism  is 
the  seed-bed  of  the  Messianic  ideas  which  constitute 
the  most  wonderful  part  of  Old  Testament  prophecy. 
By  a  blind  but  divinely  guided  instinct  the  Jews  were 
led  to  look  through  the  failure  of  their  hopes  on  to  the 
appointed  time  when  One  should  come  who  only  could 
gfive  them  satisfaction. 


CHAPTER    XXI 

THE  DEBT  OF  GUILT   EXTINGUISHED 


ONE  after  another  the  vain  hopes  of  the  Jews 
melt  in  mists  of  sorrow.  But  just  as  the  last 
of  these  flickering  lights  is  disappearing  a  gleam  of 
consolation  breaks  out  from  another  quarter,  hke  the 
pale  yellow  streak  that  may  sometimes  be  seen  low  on 
the  western  sky  of  a  stormy  day  just  before  nightfall, 
indicating  that  the  setting  sun  is  behind  the  clouds, 
although  its  dying  rays  are  too  feeble  to  penetrate  them. 
Hope  is  scarcely  the  word  for  so  faint  a  sign  of  com- 
fort as  this  melancholy  fourth  elegy  affords  in  lifting 
the  curtain  of  gloom  for  one  brief  moment ;  but  the 
bare,  negative  relief  which  the  prospect  of  an  end  to 
the  accumulation  of  new  calamities  offers  is  a  welcome 
change  in  itself,  besides  being  a  hint  that  the  tide  may 
be  on  the  turn. 

It  is  quite  characteristic  of  our  poet's  sombre  tones 
that  even  in  an  attempt  to  touch  on  brighter  ideas  than 
usually  occupy  his  thoughts,  he  should  illustrate  the 
improving  prospects  of  Israel  by  setting  them  in  con- 
trast to  a  sardonic  description  of  the  fate  of  Edom. 
This  neighbouring  nation  is  addressed  in  the  time  of 
her  elation  over  the  fall  of  Jerusalem.  The  extension 
of  her  territory  to  the  land  of  Uz  in  Arabia — Job's 
300 


IV.  21,  22.]     THE  DEBT  OF  GUILT  EXTINGUISHED  301 

country — is  mentioned  to  show  that  she  is  in  a  position 
of  exceptional  prosperity.  The  poet  mockingly  en- 
courages the  jealous  people  to  "rejoice  and  be  glad" 
at  the  fate  of  their  rival.  The  irony  of  his  language  is 
evident  from  the  fact  that  he  immediately  proceeds  to 
pronounce  the  doom  of  Edom,  The  cup  of  God's 
wrath  that  Israel  has  been  made  to  drink  shall  pass  to 
her  also ;  and  she  shall  drink  deeply  of  it  till  she  is 
intoxicated  and,  like  Noah,  makes  herself  an  object  of 
shame.  Thus  will  God  visit  the  daughter  of  Edom 
with  the  punishment  of  her  sins.  The  writer  says  that 
God  will  discover  them.  He  does  not  mean  by  this 
phrase  that  God  will  find  them  out.  They  were  never 
hidden  from  God ;  there  are  no  discoveries  for  Him  to 
make  concerning  any  of  us,  because  He  knows  all 
about  us  every  moment  of  our  lives.  The  phrase 
stands  in  opposition  to  the  common  Hebrew  expression 
for  the  forgiveness  of  sins.  When  sins  are  forgiven 
they  are  said  to  be  covered ;  therefore  when  they  are 
said  to  be  uncovered  it  is  as  though  we  were  told  that 
God  does  the  reverse  of  forgiving  them — strips  them 
of  every  rag  of  apology,  lays  them  bare.  That  is  their 
condemnation.  Nothing  is  more  ugly  than  a  naked  sin. 
The  selection  of  this  one  neighbour  of  the  Jews  for 
special  attention  is  accounted  for  by  what  contemporary 
prophets  tell  us  concerning  the  behaviour  of  the 
Edomites  when  Jerusalem  fell.  They  flew  like  vultures 
to  a  carcass.  Ezekiel  writes  :  "  Thus  saith  the  Lord 
God,  Because  that  Edom  hath  dealt  against  the  house 
of  Judah  by  taking  vengeance,  and  hath  greatly  offended, 
and  revenged  himself  upon  them ;  therefore  thus  saith 
the  Lord  God,  I  will  stretch  out  Mine  hand  upon 
Edom,  and  will  cut  off  man  and  beast  from  it,  and  I 
will  make  it  desolate  from  Teman  ;  even  unto  Dedan 


303  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

shall  they  fall  by  the  sword.  And  I  will  lay  My 
vengeance  upon  Edom  by  the  hand  of  My  people 
Israel,  and  they  shall  do  in  Edom  according  to  Mine 
anger  and  according  to  My  fury,  and  they  shall  know 
My  vengeance,  saith  the  Lord  God."  ^  Isaiah  xxxiv.  is 
devoted  to  a  vivid  description  of  the  coming  punishment 
of  Edom.  This  race  of  rough  mountaineers  had 
seldom  been  on  friendly  terms  with  their  Hebrew 
neighbours.  Nations,  like  individuals,  do  not  always 
find  it  easy  to  avoid  quarrels  with  those  who  are  closest 
to  them.  Neither  blood  relationship  nor  commerce 
prevents  the  outbreak  of  hostilities  in  a  situation  that 
gives  many  occasions  for  mutual  jealousy.  For  cen- 
turies France  and  England,  which  should  be  the  best 
friends  if  proximity  generated  friendship,  regarded 
one  another  as  natural  enemies.  Germany  is  even  a 
nearer  neighbour  to  France  than  England  is,  and  the 
frontiers  of  the  two  great  nations  are  studded  with 
forts.  It  does  not  appear  that  the  extension  of  the 
means  of  communication  among  the  different  countries 
is  likely  to  close  the  doors  of  the  temple  of  Janus. 
The  greatest  problem  of  sociology  is  to  discover  the 
secret  of  living  in  crowded  communities  among  a  variety 
of  conflicting  interests  without  any  injustice,  or  any  fric- 
tion arising  from  the  juxtaposition  of  different  classes. 
It  is  far  easier  to  keep  the  peace  among  backwoodsmen 
who  live  fifty  miles  apart  in  lonely  forests.  Therefore 
it  is  not  a  surprising  thing  that  there  were  bitter  feuds 
between  Israel  and  Edom.  But  at  the  time  of  the 
Babylonian  invasion  these  had  taken  a  peculiarly  odious 
turn  on  the  side  of  the  southern  people,  one  that  was 
doubly  offensive.     The  various  tribes  whom  the  huge 

'  Ezek.  XX.V.JI2 — 14. 


iv.2i,22.]     THE  DEBT  OF  GUILT  EXTINGUISHED  303 

Babylonian  empire  was  swallowing  up  with  insatiable 
greed  should  have  forgotten  their  mutual  differences 
in  face  of  their  common  danger.  Besides,  it  was  a 
cowardly  thing  for  Edom  to  follow  the  example  of  the 
Bedouin  robbers,  who  hovered  on  the  rear  of  the  great 
armies  of  conquest  like  scavengers.  To  settle  old 
debts  by  wreaking  vengeance  on  a  fallen  rival  in  the 
hour  of  her  humiliation  was  not  the  way  to  win  the 
honours  of  war.  Even  to  a  calm  student  of  history  in 
later  ages  this  long-past  event  shews  an  ugly  aspect. 
How  maddening  must  it  have  been  to  the  victims ! 
Accordingly  we  are  not  astonished  to  see  that  the  doom 
of  the  Edomites  is  pronounced  by  Hebrew  prophets 
with  undisguised  satisfaction.  The  proud  inhabitants 
of  the  rock  cities,  the  wonderful  remains  of  which  amaze 
the  traveller  in  the  present  day,  had  earned  the  severe 
humiliation  so  exultingly  described. 

In  all  this  it  is  very  plain  that  the  author  of  the 
Lamentations,  like  the  Hebrew  prophets  generally,  had 
an  unhesitating  belief  in  a  supremacy  of  God  over 
foreign  nations  that  was  quite  as  effective  as  His  supre- 
macy over  Israel.  On  the  other  hand,  iniquity  is 
ascribed  to  Israel  in  exactly  the  same  terms  that  are 
applied  to  foreign  nations.  Jehovah  is  not  imagined 
to  be  a  mere  tribal  divinity  like  the  Moabite  Chemosh ; 
and  the  Jews  are  not  held  to  be  so  much  His  favourites 
that  the  treatment  measured  out  to  them  in  punishment 
of  sin  is  essentially  different  from  that  accorded  to  their 
neighbours. 

To  Israel,  however,  the  doom  of  Edom  is  a  sign  of 
the  return  of  mercy.  '  It  is  not  merely  that  the  passion 
of  revenge  is  thereby  satisfied — a  poor  consolation, 
even  if  allowable.  But  in  the  overthrow  of  their  most 
annoying  tormentor  the  oppressed  people  are  at  once 


304  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

liberated  from  a  very  appreciable  part  of  their  troubles. 
At  the  same  time,  they  see  in  this  event  a  clear  sign 
that  they  are  not  selected  for  a  solitary  example  of  the 
vengeance  of  heaven  against  sin  ;  that  would  have  been 
indeed  a  hard  destiny.  But  above  all,  this  occurrence 
affords  a  reassuring  sign  that  God  who  is  thus  punish- 
ing their  enemies  is  ending  the  severe  discipline  of 
the  Jews.  In  the  very  middle  of  the  description  of  the 
coming  doom  of  Edom  we  meet  with  an  announcement 
of  the  conclusion  of  the  long  penance  of  Israel.  This 
singular  arrangement  cannot  be  accidental ;  nor  can  it 
have  been  resorted  to  only  to  obtain  the  accentuation 
of  contrast  which  we  have  seen  is  highly  valued  by 
the  elegist.  Since  it  is  while  contemplating  the  Divine 
treatment  of  the  most  spiteful  of  the  enemies  of  Israel 
that  we  are  led  to  see  the  termination  of  the  chastise- 
ment of  the  Jews,  we  may  infer  that  possibly  the 
process  in  the  mind  of  the  poet  took  the  same  course. 
If  so,  the  genesis  of  prophecy  which  is  usually  hidden 
from  view  here  seems  to  come  nearer  the  surface. 

The  language  in  which  the  improving  prospect  of  the 
Jews  is  announced  is  somewhat  obscure  ;  but  the  drift 
of  its  meaning  is  not  difficult  to  trace.  The  word 
rendered  "  punishment  of  iniquity "  in  our  English 
versions — Revised  as  well  as  Authorised^at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  twenty-second  verse,  is  one  which  in  its 
original  sense  means  simply  "  iniquity  "  ;  and  in  fact  it 
is  so  translated  further  down  in  the  same  verse,  where 
it  occurs  a  second  time,  and  where  the  parallel  word 
"  sins  "  seems  to  settle  the  meaning.  But  if  it  has  this 
meaning  when  applied  to  Edom  in  the  later  part  of  the 
verse  is  it  not  reasonable  to  suppose  that  it  must  also 
have  it  when  applied  to  the  daughter  of  Zion  in  an 
immediately  preceding    clause  ?     The    Septuagint  and 


iv.2i,22.]     THE  DEBT  OF  GUILT  EXTINGUISHED  305 

Vulgate  Versions  give  it  as  "  iniquity  "  in  both  cases. 
And  so  does  a  suggestion  in  the  margin  of  the  Revised 
Version.  But  if  we  accept  this  rendering,  which  com- 
mends itself  to  us  as  verbally  most  correct,  we  cannot 
reconcile  it  with  the  evident  intention  of  the  writer. 
The  promise  that  God  will  no  more  carry  His  people 
away  into  captivity,  which  follows  as  an  echo  of  the 
opening  thought  of  the  verse,  certainly  points  to  a 
cessation  of  punishment.  Then  the  very  idea  that  the 
iniquity  of  the  Jews  is  accomplished  is  quite  out  of 
place  here.  What  could  we  take  it  to  mean  ?  To  say 
that  the  Jews  had  sinned  to  the  full,  had  carried  out  all 
their  evil  intentions,  had  put  no  restraint  on  their 
wickedness,  is  to  give  a  verdict  which  should  carry  the 
heaviest  condemnation  ;  it  would  be  absurd  to  bring 
this  forward  as  an  introduction  to  a  promise  of  a 
reprieve.  It  would  be  less  incongruous  to  suppose  the 
phrase  to  mean,  as  is  suggested  in  the  margin  of  the 
Revised  Version,  that  the  sin  has  come  to  an  end,  has 
ceased.  That  might  be  taken  as  a  ground  for  the 
punishment  to  be  stayed  also.  But  it  would  introduce 
a  refinement  of  theology  out  of  keeping  with  the 
extreme  simplicity  of  the  ideas  of  these  elegies.  More- 
over, in  another  place,  as  we  have  seen  already,^  the 
word  **  sins  "  seems  to  be  used  for  the  punishment  of 
sins?  We  have  also  met  with  the  idea  of  the  fulfil- 
ment, literally  the  finishing,  of  God's  word  of  warning, 
with  the  necessary  suggestion  that  there  is  to  be  no 
more  infliction  of  the  evil  threatened.^  Therefore,  if  it 
were  not  for  the  reappearance  of  the  word  in  dispute 
where  the  primary  meaning  of  it  seems  to  be  neces- 
sitated by  the  context,  we  should  have  no  hesitation  in 

'  Page  269.  ^  iii.  39.  ■''  ii.  17. 

20 


3o6  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

taking  it  here  in  its  secondary  sense,  as  the  punishment 
of  iniquity.  The  German  word  schuldy  with  its  double 
signification — debt  and  guilt — has  been  suggested  as  a 
happy  rendering  of  the  Hebrew  original  in  both  places ; 
and  perhaps  this  is  the  best  that  can  be  proposed. 
The  debt  of  the  Jews  is  paid ;  that  of  the  Edomites  has 
yet  to  be  exacted. 

We  are  brought  then  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
elegist  here  announces  the  extinction  of  the  Jews'  debt 
of  guilt.  Accordingly  they  are  told  that  God  will  no 
more  carry  them  away  into  captivity.  This  promise 
has  occasioned  much  perplexity  to  people  concerned 
for  the  literal  exactness  of  Scripture.  Some  have  tried 
to  get  it  applied  to  the  time  subsequent  to  the  destruc- 
tion of  Jerusalem  by  the  Romans,  after  which,  it  is 
said,  the  Jews  were  never  again  removed  from  their 
land.  That  is  about  the  most  extravagant  instance  of 
all  the  subterfuges  to  which  literalists  are  driven  when 
in  a  sore  strait  to  save  their  theory.  Certainly  the  Jews 
have  not  been  exiled  again — not  since  the  last  time. 
They  could  not  be  carried  away  from  their  land  once 
more,  for  the  simple  reason  that  they  have  never  been 
restored  to  it.  Strictly  speaking,  it  may  be  said  indeed, 
something  of  the  kind  occurred  on  the  suppression  of 
the  revolt  under  Bar-cochba  in  the  second  century  of 
the  Christian  era.  But  all  theories  apart,  it  is  contrary 
to  the  discovered  facts  of  prophecy  to  ascribe  to  the 
inspired  messengers  of  God  the  purpose  of  supplying 
exact  predictions  concerning  the  events  of  history  in 
far-distant  ages.  Their  immediate  message  was  for 
their  own  day,  although  we  have  found  that  the  lessons 
it  contains  are  suitable  for  all  times.  What  consolation 
would  it  be  for  the  fugitives  from  the  ravaging  hosts 
of  Nebuchadnezzar  to  know   that  six  hundred  years 


iv.2i,22.]    THE  DEBT  OF  GUILT  EXTINGUISHED  307 

later  an  end  would  come  to  the  successive  acts  of 
conquerors  in  driving  the  Jev^^s  from  Jerusalem,  even 
if  they  were  not  told  that  this  would  be  because  at 
that  far-off  time  there  would  commence  one  long  exile 
lasting  for  two  thousand  years  ?  But  if  the  words  of 
the  elegist  are  for  immediate  use  as  a  consolation  to 
his  contemporaries,  it  is  unreasonable  to  press  their 
negative  statement  in  an  absolute  sense,  so  as  to  make 
it  serve  as  a  prediction  concerning  all  future  ages.  It 
is  enough  for  these  sufferers  to  learn  that  the  last  of  the 
series  of  successive  banishments  of  Jews  from  their  land 
by  the  Babylonian  government  has  at  length  taken  place. 

But  with  this  information  there  comes  a  deeper 
truth.  The  debt  is  paid.  Yet  this  is  only  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  Captivity.  Two  generations  must 
live  in  exile  before  the  restoration  will  be  possible. 
There  is  no  reference  to  that  event,  which  did  not 
take  place  till  the  Babylonian  power  had  been  utterly 
destroyed  by  Cyrus.  Still  the  deliverance  into  exile 
following  the  terrible  sufferings  of  the  siege  and  the 
subsequent  flight  is  taken  as  the  final  act  in  the  drama 
of  doom.  The  long  years  of  the  captivity,  though 
they  constituted  an  invaluable  period  of  discipline, 
did  not  bring  any  fresh  kind  of  punishment  at  all 
comparable  with  the  chastisements  already  inflicted. 

Thus  we  are  brought  face  to  face  with  the  question 
of  the  satisfaction  of  punishment.  We  have  no  right 
to  look  to  a  single  line  of  a  poem  for  a  final  settlement 
of  the  abstract  problem  itself.  Whether,  as  St, 
Augustine  maintained,  every  sin  is  of  infinite  guilt 
because  it  is  an  offence  against  an  infinite  Being; 
whether,  therefore,  it  would  take  eternity  to  pay  the 
debts  contracted  during  one  short  life  on  earth,  and 
other    questions    of    the    sam.e    character,    cannot   be 


3oS  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

answered  one  way  or  the  other  from  the  words  before 
us.  Still  there  are  certain  aspects  of  the  problem  of 
human  guilt  to  which  our  attention  is  here  drawn. 

In  the  first  place,  we  must  make  a  distinction  between 
the  national  punishment  of  national  wickedness  and  the 
personal  consequences  of  personal  wrongdoing.  The 
nation  only  exists  on  earth,  and  it  can  only  be  punished 
on  earth.  Then  the  nation  outlasts  generations  of  indi- 
vidual lives,  and  so  remains  on  earth  long  enough  for 
the  harvest  of  its  actions  to  be  reaped.  Thus  national 
guilt  may  be  wiped  out  while  the  separate  accounts 
of  individual  men  and  women  still  remain  unsettled. 
Next  we  must  remember  that  the  exaction  of  the  utter- 
most farthing  is  not  the  supreme  end  of  the  Divine 
government  of  the  world.  To  suggest  any  such  idea  is 
to  assimilate  this  perfect  government  to  that  of  corrupt 
Oriental  monarchies,  the  chief  object  of  which  in  dealing 
with  their  provinces  seems  to  have  been  to  drain  them 
of  tribute.  The  payment  of  the  debt  of  guilt  in  punish- 
ment, though  just  and  necessary,  cannot  be  a  matter  of 
any  satisfaction  to  God.  Again,  when,  as  in  the  case 
now  before  us,  the  punishment  of  sin  is  a  chastisement 
for  the  reformation  of  the  corrupt  nation  on  whom  it  is 
inflicted,  it  may  not  be  necessary  to  make  it  exactly 
equivalent  to  the  guilt  for  which  it  is  the  remedy  rather 
than  the  payment.  Lastly,  even  when  we  think  of  the 
punishment  as  direct  retribution,  we  cannot  say  what 
means  God  may  provide  for  the  satisfaction  of  the  due 
claims  of  justice.  The  second  Isaiah  saw  in  the 
miseries  inflicted  upon  the  innocent  at  this  very  time, 
a  vicarious  suffering  by  the  endurance  of  which  pardon 
was  extended  to  the  guilty  ;  ^  and  from  the  days  of  the 

'   Isa.  liii.  4-6. 


iv.2i,  22.]    THE  DEBT  OF  GUILT  EXTINGUISHED  309 

Apostles,  Christians  have  recognised  in  his  language 
on  this  subject  the  most  striking  prophecy  the  Bible 
contains  concerning  the  atonement  wrought  by  our 
Lord  in  His  sufferings  and  death.  When  we  put  all 
these  considerations  together,  and  also  call  to  our 
assistance  the  New  Testament  teachings  about  the 
character  of  God  and  the  object  of  the  work  of  Jesus 
Christ,  we  shall  see  that  there  are  various  possibilities 
lying  behind  the  thought  of  the  end  of  chastisement 
which  no  bare  statement  of  the  abstract  relations  of  sin, 
guilt,  and  doom  would  indicate. 

It  may  be  objected  that  all  such  ideas  as  those  just 
expressed  tend  to  generate  superficial  views  of  sin. 
Possibly  they  may  be  employed  so  as  to  encourage  this 
tendency.  But  if  so,  it  will  only  be  by  misinterpreting 
and  abusing  them.  Certainly  the  elegist  does  not  be- 
little the  rigour  of  the  Divine  chastisement.  It  must  not 
be  forgotten  that  the  phrase  which  gives  rise  to  these 
ideas  concerning  the  debt  of  guilt  occurs  in  the  doleful 
Book  of  Lamentations,  and  at  the  close  of  an  elegy 
that  bewails  the  awful  fate  of  Jerusalem  in  the  strongest 
language.  But  in  point  of  fact  it  is  not  the  severity 
of  punishment,  beyond  a  certain  degree,  but  the 
certainty  of  it  that  most  affects  the  mind  when  con- 
templating the  prospect  of  doom.  Not  only  does  the 
imagination  fail  to  grasp  that  which  is  immeasurably 
vast  in  the  pictures  presented  to  it,  but  even  the  reason 
rises  in  revolt  and  questions  the  possibility  of  such 
torments,  or  the  conscience  ventures  to  protest  against 
what  appears  to  be  unjust.  In  any  of  these  cases 
the  effect  of  the  menace  is  neutralised  by  its  very 
extravagance. 

On    the    other  hand,    we    have    St.   Paul's    teaching 
about  the  goodness  of  God  that  leads  us  to    repent- 


310  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

ance.^  Thus  we  understand  how  it  can  be  said  that 
Christ — who  is  the  most  perfect  revelation  of  God's 
goodness — was  raised  up  to  give  "  repentance  to  Israel  " 
as  well  as  "remission  of  sins."  ^  It  is  at  Calvary,  not 
at  Sinai,  that  sin  looks  most  black.  When  a  man  sees 
his  guilt  in  the  light  of  his  Saviour's  love  he  is  in  no 
mood  to  apologise  for  it  or  to  minimise  his  ill  desert. 
If  he  then  contemplates  the  prospect  of  the  full  pay- 
ment of  the  debt  it  is  with  a  feeling  of  the  impossi- 
bility of  ever  achieving  so  stupendous  a  task.  The 
punishment  from  which  he  would  revolt  as  an  injustice 
if  it  were  held  over  him  in  a  threat  now  presents  itself 
to  him  of  its  own  accord  as  something  quite  right  and 
reasonable.  He  cannot  find  words  strong  enough  to 
characterise  his  guilt,  as  he  lies  at  the  foot  of  the  cross 
in  absolute  self-abasement.  There  is  no  occasion  to 
fear  that  such  a  man  will  become  careless  about  sin 
if  he  is  comforted  by  a  vision  of  hope.  This  is  just 
what  he  needs  to  enable  him  to  rise  up  and  accept 
the  forgiveness  in  the  strength  of  which  he  may  begin 
the  toilsome  ascent  towards  a  better  life. 

'  Rom.  ii.  4.  '^  Acts  v.  31. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

AN  APPEAL  FOR   GOD'S   COMPASSION 


UNLIKE  its  predecessors,  the  fifth  and  last  elegy 
is  not  an  acrostic.  There  is  little  to  be  gained 
by  a  discussion  of  the  various  conjectures  that  have 
been  put  forth  to  account  for  this  change  of  style  :  as 
that  the  crescendo  movement  which  reached  its  climax 
in  the  third  elegy  was  followed  by  a  decrescendo  move- 
ment, the  conclusion  of  which  became  more  prosaic  ; 
that  the  feelings  of  the  poet  having  been  calmed 
down  during  the  composition  of  the  main  part  of 
his  work,  he  did  not  require  the  restraints  of  an 
exceptionally  artificial  method  any  longer;  that  such 
a  method  was  not  so  becoming  in  a  prayer  to  God 
as  it  had  been  in  the  utterance  of  a  lament.  In  answer 
to  these  suggestions,  it  may  be  remarked  that  some 
of  the  choicest  poetry  in  the  book  occurs  at  the  close 
of  this  last  chapter,  that  the  acrostic  was  taken  before 
as  a  sign  that  the  writer  had  his  feelings  well  under 
command,  and  that  prayers  appear  repeatedly  in  the 
alphabetical  poems.  Is  it  not  enough  to  say  that  in 
all  probability  the  elegies  were  composed  on  different 
occasions,  and  that -when  they  were  put  together  it  was 
natural  that  one  in  which  the  author  had  not  chosen 
to  bind  himself  down  to  the  peculiarly  rigorous  method 


3T2  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

employed  in  the  rest  of  the  book  should  have  been 
placed  at  the  end  ?  Even  here  we  have  a  reminiscence 
of  the  acrostic  ;  for  the  poem  consists  of  twenty-two 
verses — the  number  of  the  letters  in  the  Hebrew 
alphabet. 

It  is  to  be  observed,  further,  as  regards  the  form 
of  this  elegy,  that  the  author  now  adopts  the  parallel- 
ism which  is  the  characteristic  note  of  most  Hebrew 
poetry.  The  Revisers  break  up  the  poem  into  two- 
line  verses.  But,  more  strictly  considered,  each  verse 
consists  of  one  long  line  divided  into  two  mutually 
balancing  parts.  Thus,  while  the  third  elegy  consists 
of  triplets,  and  the  fourth  of  couplets,  the  fifth  is  still 
more  brief,  with  its  single  line  verses.  In  fact,  while 
the  ideas  and  sentiments  are  still  elegiac  and  very 
like  those  found  in  the  rest  of  the  book,  in  structure 
this  poem  is  more  assimilated  to  the  poetry  contained 
in  other  parts  of  the  Bible. 

From  beginning  to  end  the  fifth  elegy  is  directly 
addressed  to  God.  Brief  ejaculatory  prayers  are  fre- 
quent in  the  earlier  poems,  and  the  third  elegy  contains 
two  longer  appeals  to  God  ;  but  this  last  poem  differs 
from  the  others  in  being  entirely  a  prayer.  And  yet  it 
does  not  consist  of  a  string  of  petitions.  It  is  a  medita- 
tion in  the  presence  of  God,  or,  more  accurately  described, 
an  account  of  the  condition  of  the  Jews  spread  out 
before  God  in  order  to  secure  His  compassion.  In  the 
freedom  and  fulness  of  his  utterance  the  poet  reveals 
himself  as  a  man  who  is  not  unfamiliar  with  the  habit 
of  prayer.  It  is  of  course  only  the  delusion  of  the 
Pharisees  to  suppose  that  a  prayer  is  valuable  in  pro- 
portion to  its  length.  But  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  clear 
that  a  person  who  is  unaccustomed  to  prayer  halts  and 
stumbles  because  he  does  not  feel  at  home  in  addressing 


V.  i-io.]    AN  APPEAL  FOR   GOD'S   COMPASSION  313 

God.  It  is  only  with  a  friend  that  we  can  converse 
in  perfect  freedom.  One  who  has  treated  God  as  a 
stranger  will  be  necessarily  stiff  and  constrained  in  the 
Divine  presence.  It  is  not  enough  to  assure  such  a 
person  that  God  is  His  Father.  A  son  may  feel  pecu- 
liarly uncomfortable  with  his  own  father  if  he  has  lived 
long  in  separation  and  alienation  from  his  home. 
Freedom  in  the  expression  of  confidences  is  a  sure 
measure  of  the  extent  to  which  friendship  is  carried. 
Of  course  some  people  are  more  reserved  than  others ; 
but  still  as  in  the  same  person  his  different  degrees  of 
openness  or  reserve  with  different  people  will  mark  his 
relative  intimacy  of  friendship  with  them,  so  when  a 
man  has  long  accustomed  himself  to  believe  in  the 
presence  and  sympathy  of  God,  and  has  cultivated  the 
habit  of  communing  with  his  Father  in  heaven,  his 
prayers  will  not  be  confined  to  set  petitions;  he  will 
tell  his  Father  whatever  is  in  his  heart.  This  we 
have  already  seen  was  what  the  elegist  had  learnt  to 
do.  But  in  the  last  of  his  poems  he  expresses  more 
explicit  and  continuous  confidences.  He  will  have 
God  know  everything. 

The  prayer  opens  with  a  striking  phrase — "  Re- 
member, O  Lord,"  etc.  The  miserable  condition  of  the 
Jews  suggests  to  the  imagination,  if  not  to  the  reason, 
that  God  must  have  forgotten  His  people.  It  cannot 
be  supposed  that  the  elegist  conceived  of  his  God  as 
Elijah  mockingly  described  their  silent,  unresponsive 
divinity  to  the  frantic  priests  of  Baal,  or  that  he 
imagined  that  Jehovah  was  really  indifferent,  after  the 
manner  of  the  denizens  of  the  Epicurean  Olympus. 
Nevertheless,  neither  philosophy  nor  even  theology 
wholly  determines  the  form  of  an  earnest  man's  prayers. 
In  practice  it  is  impossible  not  to  speak  according  to 


314  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

appearances.  The  aspect  of  affairs  is  sometimes  such 
as  to  force  home  the  feeling  that  God  must  have  deserted 
the  sufferer,  or  how  could  He  have  permitted  the  misery 
to  continue  unchecked  ?  A  dogmatic  statement  of  the 
Divine  omniscience,  although  it  may  not  be  disputed, 
will  not  remove  the  painful  impression,  nor  will  the 
most  absolute  demonstration  of  the  goodness  of  God, 
of  His  love  and  faithfulness  ;  because  the  overwhelming 
influence  of  things  visible  and  tangible  so  fully  occupies 
the  mind  that  it  has  not  room  to  receive  unseen,  spiritual 
realities.  Therefore,  though  not  to  the  reason  still  to 
the  feelings,  it  is  as  though  God  had  indeed  forgotten 
His  children  in  their  deep  distress. 

Under  such  circumstances  the  first  requisite  is  the 
assurance  that  God  should  remember  the  sufferers 
whom  He  appears  to  be  neglecting.  He  never  really 
neglects  any  of  His  creatures,  and  His  attention  is  the 
all-sufficient  security  that  dehverance  must  be  at  hand. 
But  this  is  a  truth  that  does  not  satisfy  us  in  the  bare 
statement  of  it.  It  must  be  absorbed,  and  permitted  to 
permeate  wide  regions  of  consciousness,  in  order  that 
it  may  be  an  actual  power  in  the  life.  That,  however, 
is  only  the  subjective  effect  of  the  thought  of  the  Divine 
remembrance.  The  poet  is  thinking  of  external  actions. 
Evidently  the  aim  of  his  prayer  is  to  secure  the  atten- 
tion of  God  as  a  sure  preliminary  to  a  Divine  inter- 
position. But  even  with  this  end  in  view  the  fact  that 
God  remembers  is  enough. 

In  appealing  for  God's  attention  the  elegist  first 
makes  mention  of  the  reproach  that  has  come  upon 
Israel.  This  reference  to  humiliation  rather  than  to 
suffering  as  the  primary  ground  of  complaint  maybe 
accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  the  glory  of  God  is 
frequently  taken  as  a   reason  for  the  blessing  of  His 


V.  i-io.]     AN  APPEAL  FOR   GOD'S   COMPASSION  315 

people.  That  is  done  for  His  "  name's  sake,"  ^  Then 
the  ruin  of  the  Jews  is  derogatory  to  the  honour  of 
their  Divine  Protector.  The  peculiar  relation  of  Israel 
to  God  also  underlies  the  complaint  of  the  second 
verse,  in  which  the  land  is  described  as  "our  inherit- 
ance," with  an  evident  allusion  to  the  idea  that  it  was 
received  as  a  donation  from  God,  not  acquired  in  any 
ordinary  human  fashion.  A  great  wrong  has  been 
done,  apparently  in  contravention  of  the  ordinance  of 
Heaven.  The  Divine  inheritance  has  been  turned  over 
to  strangers.  The  very  homes  of  the  Jews  are  in  the 
hands  of  aliens.  From  their  property  the  poet  passes 
on  to  the  condition  of  the  persons  of  the  sufferers. 
The  Jews  are  orphans  ;  they  have  lost  their  fathers, 
and  their  mothers  are  widows.  This  seems  to  indicate 
that  the  writer  considered  himself  to  belong  to  the 
younger  generation  of  the  Jews, — that,  at  all  events,  he 
was  not  an  elderly  man.  But  it  is  not  easy  to  deter- 
mine how  far  his  words  are  to  be  read  literally.  No 
doubt  the  slaughter  of  the  war  had  carried  off  many 
heads  of  families,  and  left  a  number  of  women  and 
children  in  the  condition  here  described.  But  the 
language  of  poetry  would  allow  of  a  more  general 
interpretation.  All  the  Jews  felt  desolate  as  orphans 
and  widows.  Perhaps  there  is  some  thought  of  the 
loss  of  God,  the  supreme  Father  of  Israel.  Whether 
this  was  in  the  mind  of  the  poet  or  not,  the  cry  to  God 
to  remember  His  people  plainly  implies  that  His 
sheltering  presence  was  not  now  consciously  experi- 
enced. Our  Lord  foresaw  that  His  departure  would 
smite  His  disciples  with  orphanage  if  He  did  not  return 
to  them.^      Men  who  have  hardened  themselves  in  a 

'  For  example,  Jer.  xiv.  7.  -  John  xiv.  18. 


3 1 6  THE  LA  ME  NT  A  TIONS   OF  JEREMIA  H 

state  of  separation  from  God  fail  to  recognise  their  for- 
lorn condition ;  but  that  is  no  occasion  for  congratula- 
tion, for  the  family  that  never  misses  its  father  can 
never  have  known  the  joys  of  true  home  life.  Children 
of  God's  house  can  have  no  greater  sorrow  than  to  lose 
their  heavenly  Father's  presence. 

A  peculiarly  anno3nng  injustice  to  which  the  Jews 
were  subjected  by  their  harsh  masters  consisted  in 
the  fact  that  they  were  compelled  to  buy  permission  to 
collect  firewood  from  their  own  land  and  to  draw  water 
from  their  own  wells.^  The  elegist  deplores  this  griev- 
ance as  part  of  the  reproach  of  his  people.  The  mere 
pecuniary  fine  of  a  series  of  petty  exactions  is  not  the 
chief  part  of  the  evil.  It  is  not  the  pain  of  flesh  that 
rouses  a  man's  indignation  on  receiving  a  slap  in  the 
face ;  it  is  the  insult  that  stings.  There  was  more  than 
insult  in  this  grinding  down  of  the  conquered  nation ; 
and  the  indignities  to  which  the  Jews  were- subjected 
were  only  too  much  in  accord  with  the  facts  of  their 
fallen  state.  This  particular  exaction  was  an  unmis- 
takable symptom  of  the  abject  servitude  into  which 
they  had  been  reduced. 

The  series  of  illustrations  of  the  degradation  of  Israel 
seems  to  be  arranged  somewhat  in  the  order  of  time 
and  in  accordance  with  the  movements  of  the  people. 
Thus,  after  describing  the  state  of  the  Jews  in  their 
own  land,  the  poet  next  follows  the  fortunes  of  his 
people  in  exile.  There  is  no  mercy  for  them  in  their 
flight.  The  words  in  which  the  miseries  of  this  time 
are  referred  to  are  somewhat  obscure.  The  phrase  in 
the  Authorised  Version,  "  Our  necks  are  under  perse- 
cution," ^  is  rendered  by  the  Revisers,  "  Our  pursuers 


V.  5- 


V.  i-io.]     AN  APPEAL  FOR   GOD'S   COMPASSION  317 

are  upon  our  necks."  It  would  seem  to  mean  that  the 
hunt  is  so  close  that  fugitives  are  on  the  point  of  being 
captured ;  or  perhaps  that  they  are  made  to  bow  their 
heads  in  defeat  as  their  captors  seize  them.  But  a 
proposed  emendation  substitutes  the  word  "  yoke  "  for 
"pursuers."  If  we  may  venture  to  accept  this  as  a 
conjectural  improvement — and  later  critics  indulge 
themselves  in  more  freedom  in  the  handling  of  the  text 
than  was  formerly  permitted — the  line  points  to  the 
burden  of  captivity.  The  next  line  favours  this  idea, 
since  it  dwells  on  the  utter  weariness  of  the  miserable 
fugitives.  There  is  no  rest  for  them.  Palestine  is  a 
difficult  country  to  travel  in,  and  the' wilderness  south 
and  east  of  Jerusalem  is  especially  trying.  The  hills 
are  steep  and  the  roads  rocky;  for  a  multitude  of 
famine-stricken  men,  women,  and  children,  driven  out 
over  this  homeless  waste,  a  country  that  taxes  the 
strength  of  the  traveller  for  pleasure  could  not  but  be 
most  exhausting.  But  the  worst  weariness  is  not 
muscular.  Tired  souls  are  more  weary  than  tired 
bodies.  The  yoke  of  shame  and  servitude  is  more 
crushing  than  any  amount  of  physical  labour.  On  the 
other  hand  the  yoke  of  Jesus  is  easy  not  because  little 
work  is  expected  of  Christians,  but  for  the  more  satis- 
factory reason  that,  being  given  in  exchange  for  the 
fearful  burden  of  sin,  it  is  borne  willingly  and  even 
joyously  as  a  badge  of  honour. 

Finally,  in  their  exile  the  Jews  are  not  free  from 
molestation.  In  order  to  obtain  bread  they  must  abase 
themselves  before  the  people  of  the  land.  The  fugitives 
in  the  south  must  do  homage  to  the  Egyptians  ;  the 
captives  in  the  east- to  the  Assyrians.^     Here,  then,  at 


V.6. 


3i8  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

the  very  last  stage  of  the  series  of  miseries,  shame  and 
humiliation  are  the  principal  grievances  deplored.  At 
every  point  there  is  a  reproach,  and  to  this  feature  of 
the  whole  situation  God's  attention  is  especially  directed. 
Now  the  elegist  turns  aside  to  a  reflection  on  the 
cause  of  all  this  evil.  It  is  attributed  to  the  sins  of 
previous  generations.  The  present  sufferers  are  bear- 
ing the  iniquities  of  their  fathers.  Here  several  points 
call  for  a  brief  notice.  In  the  first  place,  the  very  form 
of  the  language  is  significant.  What  is  meant  by  the 
phrase  to  bear  iniquity  7  Strange  mystical  meanings 
are  sometimes  imported  into  it,  such  as  an  actual  trans- 
ference of  sin,  or  at  least  a  taking  over  of  guilt.  This 
is  asserted  of  the  sin-offering  in  the  law,  and  then  of 
the  sin-bearing  of  Jesus  Christ  on  the  cross.  It  would 
indicate  shallow  ways  of  thinking  to  say  that  the  simple 
and  obvious  meaning  of  an  expression  in  one  place  is 
the  only  signification  it  is  ever  capable  of  conveying. 
A  common  process  in  the  development  of  language 
is  for  words  and  phrases  that  originally  contained 
only  plain  physical  meanings  to  acquire  in  course 
of  time  deeper  and  more  spiritual  associations.  We 
can  never  fathom  all  that  is  meant  by  the  statement 
that  Christ  **  His  own  self  bare  our  sins  in  His  body 
upon  the  tree."  ^  Still  it  is  well  to  observe  that  there 
is  a  plain  sense  in  which  the  Hebrew  phrase  was  used. 
It  is  clear  in  the  case  now  before  us,  at  all  events,  that 
the  poet  had  no  mystical  ideas  in  mind.  When  he  said 
that  the  children  bore  the  sins  of  their  fathers  he  simply 
meant  that  they  reaped  the  consequences  of  those  sins. 
The  expression  can  mean  nothing  else  here.  It  would 
be  well,  then,  to  remember  this  very  simple  explanation 

'   I  Peter  ii.  24. 


V.  i-io.]     AN  APPEAL  FOR   GOD'S   COMPASSION  319 

of  it  when  we  are  engaged  with  the  discussion  of  other 
and  more  difficult  passages  in  which  it  occurs. 

But  if  the  language  is  perfectly  unambiguous  the 
doctrine  it  implies  is  far  from  being  easy  to  accept. 
On  the  face  of  it,  it  seems  to  be  glaringly  unjust. 
And  yet  whether  we  can  reconcile  it  with  our  ideas  of 
what  is  equitable  or  not  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  it 
states  a  terrible  truth  ;  we  gain  nothing  by  blinking  the 
fact.  It  was  perfectly  clear  to  people  of  the  time  of  the 
captivity  that  they  were  suffering  for  the  persistent 
misconduct  of  their  ancestors  during  a  succession  of 
generations.  Long  before  this  the  Jews  had  been 
warned  of  the  danger  of  continued  rebellion  against  the 
will  of  God.  Thus  the  nation  had  been  treasuring  up 
wrath  for  the  day  of  wrath.  The  forbearance  which 
permitted  the  first  offenders  to  die  in  peace  before  the 
day  of  reckoning  would  assume  another  character  for 
he  unhkppy  generation  on  whose  head  the  long-pent- 
up  flood  at  length  descended.  It  is  not  enough  to  urge 
in  reply  that  the  threat  of  the  second  commandment  to 
visit  the  sins  of  the  fathers  upon  the  children  to  the 
third  and  fourth  generation  was  for  them  that  hate  God; 
because  it  is  not  primarily  their  own  conduct,  but  the 
sins  of  their  ancestors,  in  which  the  reason  for  punishing 
the  later  generations  is  found.  If  these  sins  were  exactly 
repeated  the  influence  of  their  parents  would  make  the 
personal  guilt  of  the  later  offenders  less,  not  more, 
than  that  of  the  originators  of  the  evil  line.  Besides,  in 
the  case  of  the  Jews  there  had  been  some  amendment. 
Josiah's  reformation  had  been  very  disappointing  ;  and 
yet  the  awful  wickedness  of  the  reign  of  Manasseh 
had  not  been  repeated.  The  gross  idolatry  of  the 
earlier  times  and  the  cruelties  of  Moloch  worship  had 
disappeared.     At  least,  it  must  be  admitted,  they  were 


320  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

no  longer  common  practices  of  court  and  people.  The 
publication  of  so  great  an  inspired  work  as  the  Book 
of  Deuteronomy  had  wrought  a  marked  effect  on  the 
religion  and  morals  of  the  Jews.  The  age  which  was 
called  upon  to  receive  the  payment  for  the  national 
sins  was  not  really  so  wicked  as  some  of  the  ages  that 
had  earned  it.  The  same  thing  is  seen  in  private  life. 
There  is  nothing  that  more  distresses  the  author  of 
these  poems  than  the  sufferings  of  innocent  children  in 
the  siege  of  Jerusalem.  We  are  frequently  confronted 
with  evidences  of  the  fact  that  the  vices  of  parents 
inflict  poverty,  dishonour,  and  disease  on  their  families. 
This  is  just  what  the  elegist  means  when  he  writes  of 
children  bearing  the  iniquities  of  their  fathers.  The 
fact  cannot  be  disputed. 

Often  as  the  problem  that  here  starts  up  afresh 
has  been  discussed,  no  really  satisfactory  solution  of 
it  has  ever  been  forthcoming.  We  roust  admit  that 
we  are  face  to  face  with  one  of  the  most  profound 
mysteries  of  providence.  But  we  may  detect  some 
glints  of  light  in  the  darkness.  Thus,  as  we  have 
seen  on  the  occasion  of  a  previous  reference  to  this 
question,  ^  the  fundamental  principle  in  accordance  with 
which  these  perplexing  results  are  brought  about  is 
clearly  one  which  on  the  whole  makes  for  the  highest 
welfare  of  mankind.  That  one  generation  should 
hand  on  the  fruit  of  its  activity  to  another  is  essential 
to  the  very  idea  of  progress.  The  law  of  heredity  and 
the  various  influences  that  go  to  make  up  the  evil 
results  in  the  case  before  us  work  powerfully  for  good 
under  other  circumstances ;  and  that  the  balance  is 
certainly  on  the  side    of  good,  is  proved  by  the  fact 

'  Page  151. 


V.  i-io.]     AN  APPEAL  FOR   GOD'S   COMPASSION  321 

that  the  world  is  moving  forward,  not  backward,  as 
would  be  the  case  if  the  balance  of  hereditary  influence 
was  on  the  side  of  evil.  Therefore  it  would  be  dis- 
astrous in  the  extreme  for  the  laws  that  pass  on  the 
punishment  of  sin  to  successive  generations  to  be 
abolished ;  the  abolition  of  them  would  stop  the  chariot 
of  progress.  Then  we  have  seen  that  the  solidarity  of 
the  race  necessitates  both  mutual  influences  in  the 
present  and  the  continuance  of  influence  from  one  age 
to  another.  The  great  unit  Man  is  far  more  than 
the  sum  of  the  little  units  men.  We  must  endure  the 
disadvantages  of  a  system  which  is  so  essential  to  the 
good  of  man.  This,  however,  is  but  to  fall  back  on 
the  Leibnitzian  theory  of  the  best  of  all  possible  worlds. 
It  is  not  an  absolute  vindication  of  the  justice  of  what- 
ever happens — an  attainment  quite  beyond  our  reach. 

But  another  consideration  may  shed  a  ray  of  light 
on  the  problem.  The  bearing  of  the  sins  of  others 
is  for  the  highest  advantage  of  the  sufferers.  It  is 
difficult  to  think  of  any  more  truly  elevating  sorrows. 
They  resemble  our  Lord's  passion ;  and  of  Him  it 
was  said  that  He  was  made  perfect  through  suffer- 
ing.^ Without  doubt  Israel  benefited  immensely  from 
the  discipline  of  the  Captivity,  and  we  may  be  sure 
that  the  better  **  remnant "  was  most  blessed  by  this  ex- 
perience although  it  was  primarily  designed  to  be  the 
chastisement  of  the  more  guilty.  The  Jews  were 
regenerated  by  the  baptism  of  fire.  Then  they  could 
not  ultimately  complain  of  the  ordeal  that  issued  in  so 
much  good. 

It  is  to  be  observed,  however,  that  there  were  two 
currents    of    thought    with   regard    to    this    problem. 

>  Heb.  ii.  10. 


322  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

While  most  men  held  to  the  ancient  orthodoxy,  some 
rose  in  revolt  against  the  dogma  expressed  in  the 
proverb,  "  The  fathers  have  eaten  sour  grapes,  and 
the  children's  teeth  are  set  on  edge."  Just  at  this  time 
the  prophet  Ezekiel  was  inspired  to  lead  the  Jews  to 
a  more  just  conception,  with  the  declaration  :  "  As  I 
live,  saith  the  Lord  God,  ye  shall  not  have  occasion 
any  more  to  use  this  proverb  in  Israel.  Behold, 
all  souls  are  mine  ;  as  the  soul  of  the  father,  so  also 
the  soul  of  the  son  is  mine  :  the  soul  that  sinneth,  it 
shall  die^'^  This  was  the  new  doctrine.  But  how 
could  it  be  made  to  square  with  the  facts  ?  By  strong 
faith  in  it  the  disciples  of  the  advanced  school  might 
bring  themselves  to  believe  that  the  course  of  events 
which  had  given  rise  to  the  old  idea  would  be  arrested. 
But  if  so  they  would  be  disappointed  ;  for  the  world 
goes  on  in  its  unvarying  way.  Happily,  as  Christians, 
we  may  look  for  the  final  solution  in  a  future  life, 
when  all  wrongs  shall  be  righted.  It  is  much  to  know 
that  in  the  great  hereafter  each  soul  will  be  judged 
simply  according  to  its  own  character. 

In  conclusion,  as  we  follow  out  the  course  of  the 
elegy,  we  find  the  same  views  maintained  that  were  pre- 
sented earlier.  The  idea  of  ignominy  is  still  harped  upon. 
The  Jews  complain  that  they  are  under  the  rule  of 
servants.^  Satraps  were  really  the  Great  King's  slaves, 
often  simply  household  favourites  promoted  to  posts  of 
honour.  Possibly  the  Jews  were  put  in  the  power  of 
inferior  servants.  The  petty  tyranny  of  such  persons 
would  be  all  the  more  persistently  annoying,  if,  as 
often  happens,  servility  to  superiors  had  bred  insolence 
in  bullying  the  weak  ;  and  there  was  no  appeal  from  the 

'  Ezek.  xviii.  3,  4.  "  v.  8, 


V.  i-io.]     AN  APPEAL  FOR   GOD'S   COMPASSION  323 

vexatious  tyranny.  This  complaint  would  seem  to 
apply  to  the  people  left  in  the  land,  for  it  is  the  method 
of  the  elegist  to  bring  together  scenes  from  different 
places  as  well  as  scenes  from  different  times  in  one 
picture  of  concentrated  misery.  The  next  point  is 
that  food  is  only  procured  at  the  risk  of  life  "  because 
of  the  sword  of  the  wilderness  ;  "  ^  which  seems  to  mean 
that  the  country  is  so  disorganised  that  hordes  of 
Bedouins  hover  about  and  attack  the  peasants  when 
they  venture  abroad  to  gather  in  their  harvest.  The 
fever  of  famine  is  seen  on  these  wretched  people ;  their 
faces  burn  as  though  they  had  been  scorched  at  an 
oven.^  Such  is  the  general  condition  of  the  Jews, 
Such  is  the  scene  on  which  God  is  begged  to  look 
down  ! 

'  V.  9.  ^  V.  10. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

SIN   AND  SHAME 


THE  keynote  of  the  fifth  elegy  is  struck  in  its 
opening  verse  when  the  poet  calls  upon  God  to 
remember  the  reproach  that  has  been  cast  upon  His 
people.  The  preceding  poems  dwelt  on  the  sufferings 
of  the  Jews ;  here  the  predominant  thought  is  that  of 
the  humiliations  to  which  they  have  been  subjected. 
The  shame  of  Israel  and  the  sin  which  had  brought  it 
on  are  now  set  forth  with  point  and  force.  If,  as  some 
think,  the  literary  grace  of  the  earlier  compositions  is 
not  fully  sustained  in  the  last  chapter  of  Lamentations 
— although  in  parts  of  it  the  feeling  and  imagination 
and  art  all  touch  the  high-water  mark — it  cannot  be 
disputed  that  the  spiritual  tone  of  this  elegy  indicates 
an  advance  on  the  four  earlier  poems.  We  have 
sometimes  met  with  wild  complaints,  fierce  recrimina- 
tions, deep  and  terrible  curses  that  seem  to  require 
some  apology  if  they  are  to  be  justified.  Nothing  of 
the  kind  rufQes  the  course  of  this  faultless  meditation. 
There  is  not  a  single  jarring  note  from  beginning 
to  end,  not  one  phrase  calling  for  explanation  by 
reference  to  the  limited  ideas  of  Old  Testament  times  oi 
to  the  passion  excited  by  cruelty,  insult,  and  tyranny, 
not  a  line  that  reads  painfully  even  in  the  clear  light 
324 


V.  ii-i8.]  SIN  AND  SHAME  325 

of  the  teachings  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  vilest  outrages 
are  deplored ;  and  yet,  strange  to  say,  no  word  of  vin- 
dictiveness  towards  the  perpetrators  escapes  the  lips  of 
the  mourning  patriot !  How  is  this  ?  The  sin  of  the 
people  has  been  confessed  before  as  the  source  of  all 
their  misery ;  but  since  with  it  shame  is  now  associated 
as  the  principal  item  in  their  affliction,  we  can  see  in 
this  fresh  development  a  decided  advance  towards 
higher  views  of  the  whole  position. 

May  we  not  take  this  characteristic  of  the  concluding 
chapter  of  the  Book  of  Lamentations  to  be  an  indication 
of  progress  in  the  spiritual  experience  of  its  author  ? 
Perhaps  it  is  to  be  partially  explained  by  the  fact  that 
the  poem  throughout  consists  of  a  prayer  addressed 
directly  to  God.  The  wildest,  darkest  passions  of  the 
soul  cannot  live  in  the  atmosphere  of  prayer.  When 
men  say  of  the  persecutor,  "  Behold  he  prayeth,"  it  is 
certain  that  he  cannot  any  longer  be  "breathing 
threatening  and  slaughter."  Even  the  feelings  of  the 
persecuted  must  be  calmed  in  the  presence  of  God. 
The  serenity  of  the  surroundings  of  the  mercy-seat 
cannot  but  communicate  itself  to  the  feverish  soul  of 
the  suppliant.  To  draw  near  to  God  is  to  escape  from 
the  tumults  of  earth  and  breathe  the  still,  pure  air  of 
heaven.  He  is  Himself  so  calm  and  strong,  so  com- 
pletely sufficient  for  every  emergency,  that  we  begin 
to  enter  into  His  rest  as  soon  as  we  approach  His 
presence.  All  unawares,  perhaps  unsought,  the  peace 
of  God  steals  into  the  heart  of  the  man  who  brings  his 
troubles  to  his  Father  in  prayer. 

Then  the  reflections  that  accompany  prayer  tend  in 
the  same  direction.  In  the  light  of  God  things  begin  to 
assume  their  true  proportions.  We  discover  that  our 
first  fierce  outcries  were  unreasonable,  that  we  had  been 


326  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

simply  maddened  by  pain  so  that  our  judgment  had  been 
confused.  A  psalmist  tells  us  how  he  understood  the 
course  of  events  which  had  previously  perplexed  him 
by  taking  his  part  in  the  worship  of  the  sanctuary,  when 
referring  to  his  persecutors,  the  prosperous  wicked, 
he  exclaims,  "  Then  understood  I  their  end."  ^  In 
drawing  near  to  God  we  learn  that  vengeance  is  God's 
prerogative,  that  He  will  repay ;  therefore  we  can 
venture  to  be  still  and  leave  the  vindication  of  our  cause 
in  His  unerring  hands.  But,  further,  the  very  thirst 
for  revenge  is  extinguished  in  the  presence  of  God,  and 
that  in  several  ways :  we  see  that  the  passion  is  wrong 
in  itself;  we  begin  to  make  some  allowance  for  the 
offender ;  we  learn  to  own  kinship  with  the  man  while 
condemning  his  wickedness  ;  above  all,  we  awake  to  a 
keen  consciousness  of  our  own  guilt. 

This,  however,  is  not  a  sufficient  explanation  of  the 
remarkable  change  in  tone  that  we  have  observed  in 
the  fifth  elegy.  The  earlier  poems  contain  prayers, 
one  of  which  degenerates  into  a  direct  imprecation.^ 
If  the  poet  had  wholly  given  himself  to  prayer  in  that 
case  as  he  has  done  here  very  possibly  his  tone  would 
have  been  mollified.  Still,  we  must  look  to  other  factors 
for  a  complete  explanation.  The  writer  is  himself  one- 
of  the  suffering  people.  In  describing  their  wrongs 
he  is  narrating  his  own,  for  he  is  "  the  man  who  has 
seen  affiiction."  Thus  he  has  long  been  a  pupil  in  the 
school  of  adversity.  There  is  no  school  at  which  a 
docile  pupil  learns  so  much.  This  man  has  graduated 
in  sorrow.  It  is  not  surprising  that  he  is  not  just  what 
he  was  when  he  matriculated.  We  must  not  press  the 
analogy  too  far,  because,  as  we  have  seen,  there  is  good 

'  Psalm  Ixxiii.  17.  -  Lam,  iii.  65. 


V.  II-18.]  SIN  AND  SHAME  327 

reason  to  believe  that  none  of  the  elegies  were  written 
until  some  time  after  the  occurrence  of  the  calamities 
to  which  they  refer,  that  therefore  they  all  represent 
the  fruit  of  long  brooding  over  their  theme.  And  yet 
we  may  allow  an  interval  to  have  elapsed  between  the 
composition  of  the  earlier  ones  and  that  of  the  poem 
with  which  the  book  closes.  This  period  of  longer  con- 
tinued reflection  may  have  been  utilised  in  the  process 
of  clearing  and  refining  the  ideas  of  the  poet.  It  is  not 
merely  that  the  lessons  of  adversity  impart  fresh  know- 
ledge or  a  truer  way  of  looking  at  life  and  its  fortunes. 
They  do  the  higher  work  of  education — they  develop 
culture.  This,  indeed,  is  the  greatest  advantage  to  be 
gained  by  the  stern  discipline  of  sorrow.  The  soul 
that  has  the  grace  to  use  it  aright  is  purged  and 
pruned,  chastened  and  softened,  lifted  to  higher  views, 
and  at  the  same  time  brought  down  from  self-esteem 
to  deep  humiliation.  Here  we  have  a  partial  explana- 
tion of  the  mystery  of  suffering.  This  poem  throws 
light  on  the  terrible  problem  by  its  very  existence,  by 
the  spirit  and  character  which  it  exhibits.  The  calm- 
ness and  self-restraint  of  the  elegy,  while  it  deepens 
the  pathos  of  the  whole  scene,  helps  us  to  see  as  no 
direct  statement  would  do,  that  the  chastisement  of 
Israel  has  not  been  inflicted  in  vain.  There  must  be 
good  even  in  the  awful  miseries  here  described  in  such 
patient  language. 

The  connection  of  shame  with  sin  in  this  poem  is 
indirect  and  along  a  line  which  is ,  the  reverse  of  the 
normal  course  of  experience.  The  poet  does  not  pass 
from  sin  to  shame;  he  proceeds  from  the  thought  of 
shame  to  that  of  sin.  It  is  the  humiliating  condition  in 
which  the  Jews  are  found  that  awakens  the  idea  of  the 
shocking  guilt  of  which  this  is  the  consequence.     We 


328  THE  LAMENTA  TIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

often  have  occasion  to  acknowledge  the  fatal  hindrance 
of  pride  to  the  right  working  of  conscience.  A  lofty 
conception  of  one's  own  dignity  is  absolutely  incon- 
sistent with  a  due  feehng  of  guilt.  A  man  cannot  be 
both  elated  and  cast  down  at  the  same  moment.  If 
his  elation  is  sufficiently  sustained  from  within  it  will 
effectually  bar  the  door  to  the  entrance  of  those  humbling 
thoughts  which  cannot  but  accompany  an  admission  of 
sin.  Therefore  when  this  barrier  is  first  removed,  and 
the  man  is  thoroughly  humbled,  he  is  open  to  receive 
the  accusations  of  conscience.  All  his  fortifications 
have  been  flung  down.  There  is  nothing  to  prevent 
the  invading  army  of  accusing  thoughts  from  marching 
straight  in  and  taking  possession  of  the  citadel  of  his 
heart. 

The  elegy  takes  a  turn  at  the  eleventh  verse.  Up 
to  this  point  it  describes  the  state  of  the  people 
generally  in  their  sufferings  from  the  siege  and  its 
consequences.  But  now  the  poet  directs  attention  to 
separate  classes  of  people  and  the  different  forms  of 
cruelty  to  which  they  are  severally  subjected  in  a 
series  of  intensely  vivid  pictures.  We  see  the  awful 
fate  of  matrons  and  maidens,  princes  and  elders,  young- 
men  and  children.  Women  are  subjected  to  the  vilest 
abuse,  neither  reverence  for  motherhood  nor  pity 
for  innocence  affording  the  least  protection.  Men  of 
royal  blood  and  noble  birth  are  killed  and  their  corpses 
hung  up  in  ignominy — perhaps  impaled  or  crucified  in 
accordance  with  the  vile  Babylonian  custom.  There 
is  no  respect  for  age  or  of^ce.  Neither  is  there  any 
mercy  for  youth.  In  the  East  grinding  is  women's 
work ;  but,  like  Samson  among  the  Phihstines,  the 
young  men  of  the  Jews  are  put  in  charge  of  the  mills. 
The  poet  seems  to  indicate  that  they  have  to  carry 


V.  ii-iS.]  SIN  AND  SHAME  329 

the  heavy  mill-stones  in  the  march  of  the  returning 
army  with  the  spoils  of  the  sacked  city.  The,  children 
are  set  to  the  slave  task  of  Gibeonites.  The  Hebrew 
word  here  translated  children  might  stand  for  young 
people  who  had  reached  adult  years.^  But  in  the 
present  case  the  condition  is  that  of  immature  strength, 
for  the  burden  of  wood  they  are  required  to  bear  is 
too  heavy  for  them  and  they  stumble  under  it.  This 
is  the  scene — outrage  for  the  girls  and  women, 
slaughter  for  the  leading  men,  harsh  slavery  for  the 
children. 

Next,  passing  from  these  exact  details,  the  poet 
again  describes  the  condition  of  the  people  more 
generally,  and  this  time  under  the  image  of  an  in- 
terrupted feast,  which  is  introduced  by  one  more  re- 
ference to  the  changes  that  have  come  upon  certain 
classes.  The  elders  are  no  longer  to  be  seen  at  the 
gate  administering  the  primitive  forms  of  law  entrusted 
to  them.  The  young  men  are  no  longer  to  be  heard 
performing  on  their  musical  instruments.  ^  Still  speak- 
ing for  the  people,  the  poet  declares  that  the  joy  of 
their  heart  has  ceased.  Then  the  aspect  of  all  life 
must  be  changed  to  them.  Instead  of  the  gay  pictures 
of  dancers  in  their  revelry  we  have  the  waiting  of 
mourners.  The  guest  at  a  feast  would  be  crowned 
with  a  garland  of  flowers.  Such  was  once  the  appear- 
ance of  Jerusalem  in  her  merry  festivities.  But  now 
the  garland  has  fallen  from  her  head.^ 

This  imagery  is  a  relief  after  the  terrible  realism 
of  the  immediately  preceding  pictures.  We  cannot 
bear  to  look  continuously  at  scenes  of  agony,  nor  is 
it  well  that  we  should  attempt  to  do  so,  because  if  we 

'  V.  13,  -  V.  14.  '  V.  15,  16. 


330  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 


could  succeed  it  would  only  be  by  becoming  callous. 
Then  the  final  result  would  be  not  to  excite  deeper 
sympathy,  but  the  very  reverse,  and  at  the  same  time 
a  distinctly  lowering  and  coarsening  effect  would  be 
produced  in  us.  And  yet  we  may  not  smother  up 
abuses  in  order  to  spare  our  own  feelings.  There  are 
evils  that  must  be  dragged  out  to  the  light  in  order 
that  they  may  be  execrated,  punished,  and  destroyed. 
Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  broke  the  back  of  American  slavery 
before  President  Lincoln  attacked  it.  Where,  then, 
shall  we  find  the  middle  position  between  repul- 
sive realism  and  guilty  negligence  ?  We  have  the 
model  for  this  in  the  Biblical  treatment  of  painful 
subjects.  Scripture  never  gloats  over  the  details  of 
crimes  and  vices ;  yet  Scripture  never  flinches  from 
describing  such  things  in  the  plainest  possible  terms. 
If  these  subjects  are  ever  to  become  the  theme  of  art 
— and  art  claims  the  whole  of  life  for  her  domain — 
imagination  must  carry  us  away  to  the  secondary 
effects  rather  than  vivify  the  hideous  occurrences 
themselves.  The  passage  before  us  affords  an  ex- 
cellent illustration  of  this  method.  With  a  few  keen, 
clear  strokes  the  poet  sketches  in  the  exact  situation. 
But  he  shows  no  disposition  to  linger  on  ghastly 
details.  Though  he  does  not  shrink  from  setting  them 
before  us  in  unmistakable  truth  of  form  and  colour, 
he  hastens  to  a  more  ideal  treatment  of  the  subject, 
and  relieves  us  with  the  imaginary  picture  of  the 
spoiled  banquet.  Even  Spenser  sometimes  excites 
a  feeling  of  positive  nausea  when  he  enlarges  on  some 
most  loathsome  picture.  It  would  be  unendurable 
except  that  the  great  Elizabethan  poet  has  woven  the 
witchery  of  his  dainty  fancy  into  the  fabric  of  his 
verse.     Thus  things  can  be  said  in  poetry  which  would 


V.  II-I8.]  SIN  AND  SHAME  331 

be  unbearable  in  prose,  because  poetry  refines  with 
the  aid  of  imagination  the  tale  that  it  does  not  shrink 
from  telling  quite  truly  and  most  forcibly. 

The  change  in  the  poet's  style  prepares  for  another 
effect.  While  we  are  contemplating  the  exact  details 
of  the  sufferings  of  the  different  classes  of  outraged 
citizens,  the  insult  and  cruelty  and  utter  abomination 
of  these  scenes  rouse  our  indignation  against  the  per- 
petrators of  the  foulest  crimes,  and  leave  nothing  but 
pity  for  their  victims.  It  is  not  in  the  presence  of  such 
events  that  the  sins  of  Israel  can  be  brought  home  to 
the  people  or  even  called  to  mind.  The  attempt  to 
introduce  the  thought  of  them  there  would  seem  to  be 
a  piece  of  heartless  officiousness.  And  yet  it  is  most 
important  to  perceive  the  connection  between  all  this 
misery  and  the  previous  misconduct  of  the  Jews  which 
was  its  real  cause.  Accordingly  intermediate  reflections, 
while  they  let  the  scenes  of  blood  and  terror  recede, 
touch  on  the  general  character  of  the  whole  in  a  way 
that  permits  of  more  heart-searching  self-examination. 
Thus  out  of  the  brooding  melancholy  of  this  secondary 
grief  we  are  led  to  a  distinct  confession  of  sin  on  the 
part  of  the  people.'^ 

This  is  the  main  result  aimed  at  throughout  the 
whole  course  of  chastisement.  Until  it  has  been  reached 
little  good  can  be  effected.  When  it  is  attained  the 
discipline  has  already  wrought  its  greatest  work.  As 
we  saw  at  the  outset,  it  is  the  shame  of  the  situation 
that  awakens  a  consciousness  of  guilt.  Humbled  and 
penitent,  the  chastened  people  are  just  in  the  position 
at  which  God  can  meet  them  in  gracious  pardon. 
Strictly  speaking,  perhaps  we  should  say  that  this  is 


V.  16. 


332  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

the  position  to  which  the  elegist  desires  to  lead  them 
by  thus  appearing  as  their  spokesman.  And  yet  we 
should  not  make  too  sharp  a  distinction  between  the 
poet  and  his  people.  The  elegy  is  not  a  didactic  work ; 
the  flavour  of  its  gentle  lines  would  be  lost  directly 
they  lent  themselves  to  pedagogic  ends.  It  is  only  just 
to  take  the  words  before  us  quite  directly,  as  they  are 
written  in  the  first  person  plural,  for  a  description  of 
the  thoughts  of  at  least  the  group  of  Jews  with  whom 
their  author  was  associated. 

The  confession  of  sin  implies  in  the  first  place  a 
recognition  of  its  existence.  This  is  more  than  a  bare, 
undeniable  recollection  that  the  deed  was  done.  It  is 
possible  by  a  kind  of  intellectual  jugglery  even  to  come 
to  a  virtual  denial  of  this  fact  ;in  one's  own  conscious- 
ness. But  to  admit  the  deed  is  not  to  admit  the  sin. 
The  casuistry  of  self-defence  before  the  court  of  self- 
judgment  is  more  subtle  than  sound,  as  every  one  who 
has  found  out  his  own  heart  must  be  aware.  In  this 
matter  "the  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things."^  Now 
it  is  not  difficult  to  take  part  in  a  decorous  service 
where  all  the  congregation  are  expected  to  denominate 
themselves  miserable  offenders,  but  it  is  an  entirely 
different  thing  to  retreat  into  the  silent  chamber  of  our 
own  thought,  and  there  calmly  and  deliberately,  with 
full  consciousness  of  what  the  words  mean,  confess  to 
ourselves,  "We  have  sinned."  The  sinking  of  heart, 
the  stinging  humiliation,  the  sense  of  self-loathing  which 
such  an  admission  produces,  are  the  most  miserable 
experiences  in  life.  The  wretchedness  of  it  all  is  that 
there  is  no  possibility  of  escaping  the  accuser  when  he 
is  self.     We  can  do  nothing  but  let  the  shame  of  the 

'  Jer.  xvii.  9. 


V.  ii-iS.]  SIN  AND  SHAME  333 

deed  burn  in  the  conscience  without  any  mollifying 
salve — until  the  healing  of  Divine  forgiveness  is 
received. 

But,  in  the  second  place,  confession  of  sin  goes 
beyond  the  secret  admission  of  it  by  the  conscience,  as 
in  a  case  heard  m  camera.  Chiefly  it  is  a  frank  avowal 
of  guilt  before  God,  This  is  treated  by  St.  John  as  an 
essential  condition  of  forgiveness  by  God,  when  He 
says,  "  If  we  confess  our  sins.  He  is  faithful  and  right- 
eous to  forgive  us  our  sins,  and  to  cleanse  us  from  all 
unrighteousness."  ^  How  far  confession  should  also  be 
made  to  our  fellow-men  is  a  difficult  question.  In 
bidding  us  confess  our  "  faults  one  to  another,"  ^  St. 
James  may  be  simply  requiring  that  when  we  have 
done  anybody  a  wrong  we  should  own  it  to  the  injured 
person.  The  harsh  discipline  of  the  white  sheet  is 
not  found  in  apostolic  times,  the  brotherly  spirit  of 
which  is  seen  in  the  charity  which  "  covereth  a  multitude 
of  sins."  ^  And  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  the  true  penitent 
will  always  shrink  from  sailing  under  false  colours. 
Certainly  public  offences  call  for  public  acknowledgment, 
and  all  sin  should  be  so  far  owned  that  whether  the 
details  are  known  or  not  there  is  no  actual  deception, 
no  hypocritical  pretence  at  a  virtue  that  is  not  possessed, 
no  willingness  to  accept  honours  that  are  quite  un- 
merited. Let  a  man  never  pretend  to  be  sinless,  nay, 
let  him  distinctly  own  himself  a  sinner,  and,  in  particular, 
let  him  not  deny  or  excuse  any  specific  wickedness 
with  which  he  is  justly  accused ;  and  then  for  the  rest, 
"  to  his  own  lord  he  standeth  or  falleth."  * 

When  the  elegist  follows  his  confession  of  sin  with 


'.  I  John  i.  9.  ^  I  Peter  iv.  8 

"  James  v.  16.  ^  Rom.  xiv.  4, 


334  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

the  words,  "  For  this  our  heart  is  faint,"  etc.,^  it  is  plain 
that  he  attributes  the  sense  of  failure  and  impotence  to 
the  guilt  that  has  led  to  the  chastisement.  This  faint- 
ness  of  heart  and  the  dimness  of  sight  that  accompanies 
it,  like  the  condition  of  a  swooning  person,  suggest  a 
very  different  situation  from  that  of  the  hero  struggling 
against  a  mountain  of  difficulties,  or  that  of  the  martyr 
triumphing  over  torture  and  death.  The  humiliation  is 
now  accounted  for,  and  the  explanation  of  it  tears  to 
shreds  the  last  rag  of  pride  with  which  the  fallen  people 
might  have  attempted  to  hide  it.  The  abject  wretched- 
ness of  the  Jews  is  admitted  to  be  the  effect  of  their  own 
sins.  No  thought  can  be  more  depressing.  The  desola- 
tion of  Mount  Zion,  where  jackals  prowl  undisturbed  as 
though  it  were  the  wilderness,^  is  a  standing  testimony 
to  the  sin  of  Israel.  Such  is  the  degradation  to  which 
the  people  whom  the  elegist  here  represents  are  reduced. 
It  is  a  condition  of  utter  helplessness ;  and  yet  in  it  will 
rise  the  dawn  of  hope ;  for  when  man  is  most  empty 
of  self  he  is  most  ready  to  receive  God.  Thus  it  is  that 
from  the  deepest  pit  of  humiliation  there  springs  the 
prayer  of  trust  and  hope  with  which  the  Book  of 
Lamentations  closes. 

'  V.  17.  *  ver.  18. 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

THE  EVERLASTING    THRONE 
V.    19-22 

WE  have  lingered  long  in  the  valley  of  humiliation. 
At  the  eleventh  hour  we  are  directed  to  look 
up  from  this  scene  of  weary  gloom  to  heavenly;heights, 
radiant  in  sunlight.  It  is  not  by  accident  that  the  new 
attitude  is  suggested  only  at  the  very  end  of  the  last 
elegy.  The  course  of  the  thought  and  the  course  of 
experience  that  underlies  it  have  been  preparing  for 
the  change.  On  entering  the  valley  the  traveller  must 
look  well  to  his  feet ;  it  is  not  till  he  has  been  a  denizen 
of  it  for  some  time  that  he  is  able  to  lift  up  his  eyes  to 
other  and  brighter  realms. 

Thus  at  last  our  attention  is  turned  from  earth  to 
heaven,  from  man  to  God.  In  this  change  of  vision 
the  mood  which  gave  rise  to  the  Lamentations  disap- 
pears. Since  earthly  things  lose  their  value  in  view 
of  the  treasures  in  heaven,  the  ruin  of  them  also 
becomes  of  less  account.    Thus  we  read  in  the  Imitatio : 

"  The  life  of  man  is  always  looking  on  the  things  of  time, 
Pleased  with  the  pelf  of  earth, 
Gloomy  at  loss, 

Pricked  by  the  least  injurious  word  ; 
Life  touched  by  God  looks  on  the  eternal, — 
With  it  no  cleaving  unto  time, 
No  frown  when  property  is  lost, 
335 


336  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

No  sneer  when  words  are  harsh, — 

Because  it  puts  its  treasure  and  its  joy  in  heaven, 

Where  nothing  fades," 

The  explanation  of  this  sudden  turn  is  to  be  found 
in  the  fact  that  for  the  moment  the  poet  forgets 
himself  and  his  surroundings  in  a  rapt  contemplation 
of  God.  This  is  the  glory  of  adoration,  the  very 
highest  form  of  prayer,  that  prayer  in  which  a  man 
comes  nearest  to  the  condition  ascribed  to  angels  and 
the  spirits  of  the  blessed  who  surround  the  throne  and 
gaze  on  the  eternal  light.  It  is  not  to  be  thought  of  as 
an  idle  dreaming  like  the  dreary  abstraction  of  the 
Indian  fanatic  who  has  drilled  himself  to  forget  the 
outside  world  by  reducing  his  mind  to  a  state  of  vacancy 
while  he  repeats  the  meaningless  syllable  Om,  or  the 
senseless  ecstasy  of  the  monk  of  Mount  Athos,  who  has 
attained  the  highest  object  of  his  ambition  when  he 
thinks  he  has  beheld,  the  sacred  light  within  his  own 
body.  It  is  self-forgetful,  not  self-centred  ;  and  it  is 
occupied  with  the  contemplation  of  those  great  truths 
of  the  being  of  God,  absorption  in  which  is  an  inspir- 
ation. Here  the  worshipper  is  at  the  river  of  the  water 
of  life,  from  which  if  he  drinks  he  will  go  away  refreshed 
for  the  battle  like  the  Red-cross  knight  restored  at  the 
healing  fountain.  It  is  the  misfortune  of  our  own  age 
that  it  is  impractical  in  the  excess  of  its  practicalness 
when  it  has  not  patience  for  those  quiet,  calm  experi- 
ences of  pure  worship  which  are  the  very  food  of  the 
soul. 

The  continuance  of  the  throne  of  God  is  the  idea 
that  now  lays  hold  of  the  elegist  as  he  turns  his 
thoughts  from  the  miserable  scenes  of  the  ruined  city 
to  the  glory  above.  This  is  brought  home  to  his  con- 
sciousness by  the  fleeting  nature  of  all  things  earthly. 


V.  19-22.]  THE  EVERLASTING    THRONE  337 

He  has  experienced  what  the  author  of  the  Epistle  to 
the  Hebrews  describes  as  "  the  removing  of  those 
things  that  are  shaken,  as  of  things  that  have  been 
made,  that  those  things  which  are  not  shaken  may 
remain."  ^  The  throne  of  David  has  been  swept  away  ; 
but  above  the  earthly  wreck  the  throne  of  God  stands 
firm,  all  the  more  clearly  visible  now  that  the  distracting 
influence  of  the  lower  object  has  vanished,  all  the  more 
valuable  now  that  no  other  refuge  can  be  found.  Men 
fall  like  leaves  in  autumn  ;  one  generation  follows 
another  in  the  swift  march  to  death  ;  dynasties  which 
outlive  many  generations  have  their  day,  to  be  succeeded 
by  others  of  an  equally  temporary  character ;  kingdoms 
reach  their  zenith,  decline  and  fall.  God  only  remains, 
eternal,  unchangeable.  His  is  the  only  throne  that 
stands  secure  above  every  revolution. 

The  unwavering  faith  of  our  poet  is  apparent  at  this 
point  after  it  has  been  tried  by  the  most  severe  tests. 
Jerusalem  has  been  destroyed,  her  king  has  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  the  enemy,  her  people  have  been  scattered  ; 
and  yet  the  elegist  has  not  the  faintest  doubt  that  her 
God  remains  and  that  His  throne  is  steadfast,  immov- 
able, everlasting.  This  faith  reveals  a  conviction  far 
in  advance  of  that  of  the  surrounding  heathen.  The 
common  idea  was  that  the  defeat  of  a  people  was  also 
the  defeat  of  their  gods.  If  the  national  divinities 
were  not  exterminated  they  were  flung  down  from  their 
thrones,  and  reduced  to  the  condition  of  jms — demons 
who  avenged  themselves  on  their  conquerors  by  an- 
noying them  whenever  an  opportunity  for  doing  so 
arose,  but  with  greatly  crippled  resources.  No  such 
notion  is  ever  entertained  by  the  author  of  these  poems 

'  Heb.  xii.  27. 


338  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

nor  by  any  of  the  Hebrew  prophets.  The  fall  of  Israel 
in  no  way  affects  the  throne  of  God ;  it  is  even  brought 
about  by  His  will ;  it  could  not  have  occurred  if  He 
had  been  pleased  to  hinder  it. 

Thus  the  poet  was  led  to  find  his  hope  and  refuge  in 
the  throne  of  God,  the  circumstances  of  his  time  con- 
curring to  turn  his  thoughts  in  this  direction,  since  the 
disappearance  of  the  national  throne,  the  chaos  of  the 
sacked  city,  and  the  establishment  of  a  new  government 
under  the  galling  yoke  of  slaves  from  Babylon,  invited 
the  man  of  faith  to  look  above  the  shifting  powers  of 
earth  to  the  everlasting  supremacy  of  heaven. 

This  idea  of  the  elegist  is  in  line  with  a  familiar 
stream  of  Hebrew  thought,  and  his  very  words  have 
many  an  echo  in  the  language  of  prophet  and  psalmist, 
as,  for  example,  in  the  forty-fifth  psalm,  where  we 
read,  "Thy  throne,  O  God,  is  for  ever  and  ever." 

The  grand  Messianic  hope  is  founded  on  the  conviction 
that  the  ultimate  establishment  of  God's  reign  through- 
out the  world  will  be  the  best  blessing  imaginable  for 
all  mankind.  Sometimes  this  is  associated  with  the 
advent  of  a  Divinely  anointed  earthly  monarch  of  the 
line  of  David.  At  other  times  God's  direct  sovereignty 
is  expected  to  be  manifested  in  the  "Day  of  the  Lord." 
The  failure  of  the  feeble  Zedekiah  seems  to  have  dis- 
credited the  national  hopes  centred  in  the  royal  family. 
For  two  generations  they  slumbered,  to  be  awakened 
in  connection  with  another  disappointing  descendant 
of  David,  Zerubbabel,  the  leader  of  the  return.  No 
king  was  ever  equal  to  the  satisfaction  of  these  hopes 
until  the  Promised  One  appeared  in  the  fulness  of  the 
times,  until  Jesus  was  born  into  the  world  to  come 
forth  as  the  Lord's  Christ.  Meanwhile,  since  the  royal 
house  is  under  a  cloud,  the  essential  Messianic  hope 


V.  19-22.]  THE  EVERLASTING    THRONE  339 

turns  to  God  alone.  He  can  deliver  His  people,  and 
He  only.  Even  apart  from  personal  hopes  of  rescue,  the 
very  idea  of  the  eternal,  just  reign  of  God  above  the 
transitory  thrones  of  men  is  a  calming,  reassuring 
thought. 

It  is  strange  that  this  idea  should  ever  have  lost  its 
fascination  among  Christian  people,  who  have  so  much 
more  gracious  a  revelation  of  God  than  was  given  to 
the  Jews  under  the  old  covenant ;  and  yet  our  Lord's 
teachings  concerning  the  Fatherhood  of  God  have  been 
set  forth  as  the  direct  antithesis  of  the  Divine  sovereignty, 
while  the  latter  has  been  treated  as  a  stern  and  dreadful 
function  from  which  it  was  natural  to  shrink  with  fear 
and  trembling.  But  the  truth  is  the  two  attributes  are 
mutually  illustrative ;  for  he  is  a  very  imperfect  father 
who  does  not  rule  his  own  house,  and  he  is  a  very 
inadequate  sovereign  who  does  not  seek  to  exercise 
parental  functions  towards  his  people.  Accordingly, 
the  gospel  of  Christ  is  the  gospel  of  the  kingdom. 
Thus  the  good  news  declared  by  the  first  evangelists 
was  to  the  effect  that  the  kingdom  of  God  was  at 
hand,  and  our  Lord  taught  us  to  pray,  "  Thy  kingdom 
come."  For  Christians,  at  least  as  much  as  for  Jews, 
the  eternal  sovereignty  of  God  should  be  a  source  of 
profound  confidence,  inspiring  hope  and  joy. 

Now  the  elegist  ventures  to  expostulate  with  God 
on  the  ground  of  the  eternity  of  His  throne.  God  had 
not  abdicated,  though  the  earthly  monarch  had  been 
driven  from  his  kingdom.  The  overthrow  of  Zedekiah 
had  left  the  throne  of  God  untouched.  Then  it  was 
not  owing  to  inability  to  come  to  the  aid  of  the  suffering 
people  that  the  eternal  King  did  not  intervene  to  put 
an  end  to  their  miseries.  A  long  time  had  passed 
since    the  siege,  and  still    the  Jews  Were    in  distress. 


340  THE   LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

It  was  as  though  God  had  forgotten  them  or  voluntarily 
forsaken  them.  This  is  a  dilemma  to  which  we  are 
often  driven.  If  God  is  almighty  can  He  be  also  all- 
merciful  ?  If  what  we  knew  furnished  all  the  possible 
data  of  the  problem  this  would  be  indeed  a  serious 
position.     But  our  ignorance  silences  us. 

Some  hint  of  an  explanation  is  given  in  the  next 
phrase  of  the  poet's  prayer.  God  is  besought  to  turn 
the  people  to  Himself  Then  they  had  been  moving 
away  from  Him.  It  is  like  the  old  popular  ideas  of 
sunset.  People  thought  the  sun  had  forsaken  the 
earth,  when,  in  fact,  their  part  of  the  earth  had 
forsaken  the  sun.  But  if  the  wrong  is  on  man's  side 
on  man's  side  must  be  the  amendment.  Under  these 
circumstances  it  is  needless  and  unjust  to  speculate  as 
to  the  cause  of  God's  supposed  neglect  or  forgetfulness. 

There  can  be  no  reasonable  doubt  that  the  language 
of  the  elegy  here  points  to  a  personal  and  spiritual 
change.  We  cannot  water  it  down  to  the  expression 
of  a  desire  to  be  restored  to  Palestine.  Nor  is  it 
enough  to  take  it  as  a  prayer  to  be  restored  to  God's 
favour.     The  double  expression, 

"  Turn  Thou  us  unto  Thee,  O  Lord,  and  ive  shall  be  turned^' 

points  to  a  deeper  longing,  a  longing  for  real  con- 
version, the  turning  round  of  the  heart  and  life  to  God, 
the  return  of  the  prodigal  to  his  Father.  We  think 
of  the  education  of  the  race,  the  development  of  man- 
kind, the  culture  of  the  soul ;  and  in  so  thinking  we 
direct  our  attention  to  important  truths  which  were 
not  so  well  within  the  reach  of  our  forefathers.  On 
the  other  hand,  are  we  not  in  danger  of  overlooking 
another  series  of  reflections  on  which  they  dwelt  more 
persistently?     It   is    not    the    fact    that    the    world    is 


V.  19-22.]  THE  EVERLASTING    THRONE  341 

marching  straight  on  to  perfection  in  an  unbroken  line 
of  evolution.  There  are  breaks  in  the  progress  and 
long  halts,  deviations  from  the  course  and  retrograde 
movements.  We  err  and  go  astray,  and  then  continu- 
ance in  an  evil  way  does  not  bring  us  out  to  any 
position  of  advance  ;  it  only  plunges  us  down  deeper 
falls  of  ruin.  Under  such  circumstances,  a  more 
radical  change  than  anything  progress  or  education 
can  produce  is  called  for  if  ever  we  are  even  to  re- 
cover our  lost  ground,  not  to  speak  of  advancing  to 
higher  attainments.  In  the  case  of  Israel  it  was  clear 
that  there  could  be  no  hope  until  the  nation  made  a 
complete  moral  and  religious  revolution.  The  same 
necessit}'  lies  before  every  soul  that  has  drifted  into 
the  wrong  way.  This  subject  has  been  discredited 
by  being  treated  too  much  in  the  abstract,  with  too 
little  regard  for  the  actual  condition  of  men  and  women. 
The  first  question  is,  What  is  the  tendency  of  the  life  ? 
If  that  is  away  from  God,  it  is  needless  to  discuss 
theories  of  conversion ;  the  fact  is  plain  that  in  the 
present  instance  some  conversion  is  needed.  There 
is  no  reason  to  retain  a  technical  term,  and  perhaps  it 
would  be  as  well  to  abandon  it  if  it  were  found  to  be 
degenerating  into  a  mere  cant  phrase.  This  is  not 
a  question  of  words.  The  urgent  necessity  is  con- 
cerned with  the  actual  turning  round  of  the  leading 
pursuits  of  life. 

In  the  next  place,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  the 
turning  here  contemplated  is  positive  in  its  aims,  not 
merely  a  flight  from  the  wTong  way.  It  is  not  enough 
to  cast  out  the  evil  spirit,  and  leave  the  house  swept 
and  garnished,  but  without  a  tenant  to  take  care  of  it. 
Evil  can  only  be  overcome  by  good.  To  turn  from 
sin  to  blank  vacancy  and;  nothingness  is  an  impossi- 


342  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH 

bility.  The  great  motive  must  be  the  attraction  of  a 
better  course  rather  than  revulsion  from  the  old  Hfe. 
This  is  the  reason  why  the  preaching  of  the  gospel 
of  Christ  succeeds  where  pure  appeals  to  conscience 
fail. 

By  his  Serious  Call  to  the  Unconverted  William  Law 
started  a  few  earnest  men  thinking ;  but  he  could  not 
anticipate  the  Methodist  revival  although  he  prepared 
the  way  for  it.  The  reason  seems  to  be  that  appeals 
to  conscience  are  depressing,  necessarily  and  rightly 
so;  but  some  cheering  encouragem^ent  is  called  for  if 
energy  is  to  be  found  for  the  tremendous  effort  of 
turning  the  whole  life  upon  its  axle.  Therefore  it  is 
not  the  threat  of  wrath  but  the  gospel  of  mercy  that 
leads  to  what  may  be  truly  called  conversion. 

Then  we  may  notice,  further,  that  the  particular 
aim  of  the  change  here  indicated  is  to  turn  back  to 
God.  As  sin  is  forsaking  God,  so  the  commencement 
of  a  better  life  must  consist  in  a  return  to  Him. 
But  this  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  a  means  towards 
some  other  end.  We  must  not  have  the  home-coming 
made  use  of  as  a  mere  convenience.  It  must  be  an 
end  in  itself,  and  the  chief  end  of  the  prayer  and 
effort  of  the  soul,  or  it  can  be  nothing  at  all.  It 
appears  as  such  in  the  passage  now  under  considera- 
tion. The  elegist  writes  as  though  he  and  the  people 
whom  he  represents  had  arrived  at  the  conviction  that 
their  supreme  need  was  to  be  brought  back  into  near 
and  happy  relations  with  God.  The  hunger  for  God 
breathes  through  these  words.  This  is  the  truest, 
deepest,  most  Divine  longing  of  the  soul.  When  once 
it  is  awakened  we  may  be  sure  that  it  will  be  satisfied. 
The  hopelessness  of  the  condition  of  so  many  people 
is  not  only  that  they  are  estranged  from  God,  but  that 


V.  19-22.]  THE  EVERLASTING    THRONE  343 

they  have  no  desire  to  be  reconciled  to  Him.  Then 
the  kindling  of  this  desire  is  itself  a  great  step  towards 
the  reconciliation. 

And  yet  the  good  wish  is  not  enough  by  itself  to  attain 
its  object.  The  prayer  is  for  God  to  turn  the  people 
back  to  Himself  We  see  here  the  mutual  relations 
of  the  human  and  the  Divine  in  the  process  of  the 
recovery  of  souls.  So  long  as  there  is  no  willingness 
to  return  to  God  nothing  can  be  done  to  force  that 
action  on  the  wanderer.  The  first  necessity,  therefore, 
is  to  awaken  the  prayer  which  seeks  restoration.  But 
this  prayer  must  be  for  the  action  of  God.  The  poet 
knows  that  it  is  useless  simply  to  resolve  to  turn. 
Such  a  resolution  may  be  repeated  a  thousand  times 
without  any  result  following,  because  the  fatal  poison  of 
sin  is  like  a  snake  bite  that  paralyses  its  victims.  Thus 
we  read  in  the  Theologia  Germanica,  "  And  in  this 
bringing  back  and  healing,  I  can,  or  may,  or  shall  do 
nothing  of  myself,  but  simply  yield  to  God,  so  that  He 
alone  may  do  all  things  in  me  and  work,  and  I  may 
suffer  Him  and  all  His  work  and  His  Divine  will." 
The  real  difficulty  is  not  to  change  our  own  hearts  and 
lives  ;  that  is  impossible.  And  it  is  not  expected  of  us. 
The  real  difficulty  is  rather  to  reach  a  consciousness  of 
our  own  disabilit3^  It  takes  the  form  of  unwillingness 
to  trust  ourselves  entirely  to  God  for  Him  to  do  for  us 
and  in  us  just  whatever  He  will. 

The  poet  is  perfectly  confident  that  when  God  takes 
His  people  in  hand  to  lead  them  round  to  Himself  He 
will  surely  do  so.  If  He  turns  them  they  will  be  turned. 
The  words  suggest  that  previous  efforts  had  been  made 
from  other  quarters,  and  had  failed.  The  prophets, 
speaking  from  God,  had  urged  repentance,  but  their 
words   had    been   ineffectual.     It   is   only   when    God 


344  THE  LAMENTA  TIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

undertakes  the  work  that  there  is  any  chance  of  suc- 
ccess.  But  then  success  is  certain.  This  truth  was 
illustrated  in  the  preaching  of  the  cross  by  St.  Paul  at 
Corinth,  where  it  was  found  to  be  the  power  of  God. 
It  is  seen  repeatedly  in  the  fact  that  the  worst,  the 
oldest,  the  most  hardened  are  brought  round  to  a 
new  life  by  the  miracle  of  redeeming  power.  Herein 
we  have  the  root  principle  of  Calvinism,  the  secret  of 
the  marvellous  vigour  of  a  system  which,  at  the  first 
blush  of  it,  would  seem  to  be  depressing  rather  than 
encouraging.  Calvinism  directed  the  thoughts  of  its 
disciples  away  from  self,  and  man,  and  the  world,  for 
the  inspiration  of  all  life  and  energy.  It  bade  them 
confess  their  own  impotence  and  God's  almightiness. 
All  who  could  trust  themselves  to  such  a  faith  would 
find  the  secret  of  victory. 

Next,  we  see  that  the  return  is  to  be  a  renewal  of  a 
previous  condition.  The  poet  prays,  "  Renew  our 
days  as  of  old  " — a  phrase  which  suggests  the  recovery 
of  apostates.  Possibly  here  we  have  some  reference 
to  more  external  conditions.  There  is  a  hope  that 
the  prosperity  of  the  former  times  may  be  brought 
back.  And  yet  the  previous  line,  which  is  concerned 
with  the  spiritual  return  to  God,  should  lead  us  to 
take  this  one  also  in  a  spiritual  sense.  We  think  of 
Cowper's  melancholy  regret — 

"Where  is  the  blessedness  I  knew 
When  first  I  saw  the  Lord  ?  " 

The  memory  of  a  lost  blessing  makes  the  prayer  for 
restoration  the  more  intense.  It  is  of  God's  exceeding 
lovingkindness  that  His  compassions  fail  not,  so  that 
He  does  not  refuse  another  opportunity  to  those  who 
have  proved   faithless  in  the   past.     In  some  respects 


V.  19-22.]  THE  EVERLASTING    THRONE  345 

restoration  is  more  difficult  than  a  new  beginning. 
The  past  will  not  come  back.  The  innocence  of  child- 
hood, when  once  it  is  lost,  can  never  be  restored. 
That  first,  fresh  bloom  of  youth  is  irrecoverable.  On 
the  other  hand,  what  the  restoration  lacks  in  one 
respect  may  be  more  than  made  up  in  other  directions. 
Though  the  old  paradise  will  not  be  regained,  though 
it  has  withered  long  since,  and  the  site  of  it  has  become 
a  desert,  God  will  create  new  heavens  and  a  new  earth 
which  shall  be  better  than  the  lost  past.  And  this  new 
state  will  be  a  real  redemption,  a  genuine  recovery  of 
what  was  essential  to  the  old  condition.  The  vision 
of  God  had  been  enjoyed  in  the  old,  simple  days,  and 
though  to  weary  watchers  sobered  by  a  sad  experience, 
the  vision  of  God  will  be  restored  in  the  more  blessed 
future. 

In  our  English  Bible  the  last  verse  of  the  chapter 
reads  like  a  final  outburst;of  the  language  of  despair. 
It  seems  to  say  that  the  prayer  is  all  in  vain,  for  God 
has  utterly  forsaken  His  people.  So  it  was  understood 
by  the  Jewish  critics  who  arranged  to  repeat  the 
previous  verse  at  the  end  of  the  chapter  to  save  the 
omen,  that  the  Book  should  not  conclude  with  so  gloomy 
a  thought.  But  another  rendering  is  now  generally 
accepted,  though  our  Revisers  have  only  placed  it  in 
the  margin.  According  to  this  we  read,  ''  Unless  Thou 
hast  utterly  rejected  us,"  etc.  There  is  still  a  melan- 
choly tone  in  the  sentence,  as  there  is  throughout 
the  Book  that  it  concludes  ;  but  this  is  softened,  and 
now  it  by  no  means  breathes  the  spirit  of  despair. 
Turn  it  round,  and  the  phrase  will  even  contain  an 
encouragement.  If  God  has  not  utterly  rejected  His 
people  assuredly  He  will  attend  to  their  prayer  to  be 
restored  to  Him.     But  it  cannot  be  that  He  has  quite 


346  THE  LAMENTATIONS   OF  JEREMIAH 

cast  them  off.  Then  it  must  be  that  He  will  respond 
and  turn  them  back  to  Himself.  If  our  hope  is  only 
conditioned  by  the  question  whether  God  has  utterly 
forsaken  us  it  is  perfectly  safe,  because  the  one  imagin- 
able cause  of  shipwreck  can  never  arise.  There  is  but 
one  thing  that  might  make  our  trust  iti  God  vain  and 
fruitless  ;  and  that  one  thing  is  impossible,  nay,  in- 
conceivable. So  wide  and  deep  is  our  Father's  love,  so 
firm  is  the  adamantine  strength  of  His  eternal  fidelity, 
we  may  be  absolutely  confident  that,  though  the  moun- 
tains be  removed  and  cast  into  the  sea,  and  though  the 
solid  earth  melt  away  beneath  our  feet.  He  will  still 
abide  as  the  Eternal  Refuge  of  His  children,  and  there- 
fore that  He  will  never  fail  to  welcome  all  who  seek 
His  grace  to  help  them  return  to  Him  in  true  penitence 
and  filial  trust.  Thus  we  are  led  even  by  this  most 
melancholy  book  in  the  Bible  to  see,  as  with  eyes 
purged  by  tears,  that  the  love  of  God  is  greater  than 
the  sorrow  of  man,  and  His  redeeming  power  more 
mighty  than  the  sin  which  lies  at  the  root  of  the  worst 
of  that  sorrow,  the  eternity  of  His  throne,  in  spite  of 
the  present  havoc  of  evil  in  the  universe,  assuring  us 
that  the  end  of  all  will  be  .not  a  mournful  elegy,  but 
a  paean  of  victory. 


Date  Due 

N  6     3^ 

^ 

^_ ■' 

V^Tv    -'  ,:  '.i 

f) 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary-Speer  Libra 


1    1012  00051   8086 


